Answered Prayers
by Stony22
Summary: After WWII, Steve Rogers' life took a turn for the worse. As the decades flew by, he reached a low he never thought was physically possible. On a Friday night, however, Steve's life changed forever when a "stranger" picked him up from the curb. An AU in which Steve was never frozen and he was unaware of Tony's birth. Warning: Graphic sexual/violent content.
1. Chapter 1

Steve Rogers woke up with a start on Friday evening in his small, one room apartment in Los Angeles. He was drenched with sweat and breathing heavily from a particularly violent nightmare about World War II. Steve's head was pounding, and he struggled to remember what he did the night before that made him feel so miserable, and he wondered if last night's activities triggered his PTSD. It was happening more and more frequently as his lifestyle started to get the better of him, and he prayed to God the instant he woke up, thanking him for giving him another day. He swore to himself that he'd find a support group and take steps to change his life, but every time he picked up the phone to find help, the blonde would quickly hang up out of shame and embarrassment. Steve was disgusted with himself and desperately wanted help, but he was raised to be tough and fix his problems without the aid of others.

He got up from his old, creaky full-size mattress and closely examined his apartment. The walls of Steve's apartment were slate grey and the entire floor was covered with a thin carpet with different tints and shades of blue woven into it. His bed with dark blue sheets and a black comforter was in the right-hand corner of the room, and next to it was a small white pressed wood nightstand with a cheap Motorola cell-phone sitting on top. His kitchen was at the far end of the room, and there was a slate grey half wall dividing it from his bedroom. There was a dingy white refrigerator, an off-white stove, and two cream colored counters with a sink installed on the counter on the right. A dark blue pleather couch with a white coffee table was in the left-hand corner. The coffee table was littered with drug paraphilia: a bag of cocaine with a straw, razor, and mirror sitting beside it, several used syringes with a small balloon of heroin next to it, a small blue bong in desperate need of cleaning, a yellow lighter, and a grinder filled with weed were all scattered across the table.

Steve walked over to the coffee table, grabbed the bong and went to the sink to fill it with water and ice cubes. After it was filled, he sauntered back to the couch, carefully sat down and packed the bowl. He put his mouth on the rim, ensuring that no smoke would escape, and put his thumb on the choke. The blonde grabbed the yellow lighter from table, brought it to the bowl and lit it in a circular motion before taking his thumb off the choke. He took a long, powerful hit, taking all of the smoke into his lungs before setting the bong back on the table. Steve kept the smoke in his lungs for ten seconds before exhaling it slowly, sending a wispy cloud into the air.

As the high started to kick in, the blonde sprawled out on the couch and stared at the ceiling. He felt distant from his apartment and the life he was currently living, and it helped him feel numb to the world. While he was high, Steve was able to reflect on his past in an objective state, and he didn't feel guilty about all of the things he ran away from.

When Steve put Red Skull's plane in the water in order to save New York, he was able to maneuver his way out of the plane and swim to the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. After several hours of treading water, five men on a fishing boat found him and brought him onto their ship. The men gave him dry, somewhat snug-fitting clothing to wear, and they discussed his service and his Captain America persona. As Steve and the fisherman navigated the Atlantic to return to the United States, the super-soldier experienced a sever nightmare. He woke up screaming, and later he found that some words the men used triggered feelings of paranoia and rage that were buried deep inside of him. The fishermen knew something was wrong with him and they were terrified of what Steve would do next, and they couldn't wait to get off of the boat. When they finally docked at a port in Maine, the five men pushed Steve away, leaving him to his own devices to get home.

He was left without even so much as a dime, so Steve had to hitch-hike from Maine back to his home in Brooklyn, New York. On several occasions during his adventure home, he had to exchange his sexual services in return for a ride, and on that long journey home his pride abandoned him. When he finally arrived to his hometown, nothing felt the same. Bucky was dead, women recognized him and wanted to fuck him at every twist and turn, and everyone wanted to hear about the adventures of Captain America.

Steve came to hate his hero status; he didn't like the fame, the girls, or the gifts that came with his wartime achievements. Peggy was the only person that meant anything to him, and when she came to New York to reunite with him the climate of their relationship changed. He was no longer the Steve that she had come to love, and it broke her heart day by day. Some days he acted disinterested and pulled away from her, and other days he experienced violent mood swings and lashed out at her. She begged Steve to get help, but he denied anything was wrong with him. He refused to seek help from a therapist, and always used the argument that "real men take care of their own problems." After a few months Peggy had had enough; she packed her bags and returned to England, leaving Steve alone in his cold, dreary apartment.

After Peggy left him, Steve was approached by Howard Stark, his old friend that helped him become the perfect human specimen. Howard tried to rekindle their friendship, but he soon realized that Steve was no longer the man he used to be. The blonde explained to his old friend that he was leaving Brooklyn for good and moving to another state as soon as he was honorable discharged from the army. He wanted a fresh start, and the only way he felt that he could truly give himself another shot at a normal life was to move far away. Before he left, he told Howard to have a great life and to remember him as the person he used to be before the war ended. When he was finally relieved of his military contract, Steve burned his Captain America uniform, buzzed his hair with two guard clippers, packed his bags and left for California.

The new haircut, along with a change in his wardrobe, helped him get by virtually unnoticed by the public. As soon as he reached his new home, he had fake identification made and went by the name Grant. Steve, realizing that his appearance would change at an incredibly slow rate, devised a plan to keep people from noticing. After a few years of working at a job and living at an apartment in one city, he would quit and relocate to another part of California so people would never have the chance to realize it. While this routine worked well for the ex-soldier, it caused him considerable grief. He didn't have much of an opportunity to get close to people, and he avoided committed relationships at all costs for fear of the consequences.

As the decades passed, Steve's nightmares and breakdowns became more frequent. They occurred several days a week, and at times he would have to hide in the bathroom at work in order to allow himself time to calm down. His reluctance to find help only made things worse, and he sank into a deep depression. Eventually all he did was go to work, socialize occasionally, and go home to his empty, cold apartment with no one to talk to or love.

As the nineteen-eighties rolled in, the blonde decided to move to San Francisco, hoping that the hustle and bustle of the city would help him reconnect with himself and rediscover the person he used to be. He found a job illustrating for an advertisement company, and several of the men he worked with introduced him to the club scene. Steve enjoyed the energy and liveliness of the city's random hotspots, and soon he was going out almost every single night. As he explored the depths of club culture, Steve was introduced to drugs. He resisted at first and avoided people who tried to sell to him, but after a rough week at work Steve decided to give them a try.

It started out innocently enough with marijuana, but soon Steve was using hard drugs. He loved the rush that came from cocaine and heroin, and soon the ex-soldier became addicted. It was the only thing in his life besides clubbing that made him feel anything inside, and as soon as the high wore off he was desperate for more. Being high helped him detach from his past and look at it objectively as if it he was never Captain America. The drugs soon led to promiscuity, and while Steve took comfort in having a warm body next him, he'd often wake up with no recollection of his actions the night before.

His drug addiction led him down a dark, twisted path, and soon Steve lost his job, many of the friends he'd made, and any ounce of self-respect he had left. Many people he knew from the club scene passed away from AIDS during the nineties, and for once Steve was thankful for the super-serum, as it protected him from sexually transmitted diseases. He could not contract the virus, and as a result Steve became more even more reckless and self-destructive. His habit grew out of control, and the blonde became so desperate for his fix that he turned to the world's oldest profession for the funds to feed his addiction.

In the early two-thousands, Steve moved from San Francisco to Los Angeles and found himself in the small, drab apartment he still lived in today. On weekends, he'd take to the streets and wait on the curb, waiting for someone to pick him up and pay him for his services. It was a quick and relatively easy way to earn money, and any time he found himself in danger his superior strength and fighting skills saved him. Few people ever attempted to do him bodily harm, as his stature and serious demeanor intimidated people enough to where all they did was simply fuck him, pay him, and rush away.

_Shit… It's midnight already? I need to get out there, there's probably tricks waiting for me already. God, please send me another rich guy like last week… I promise after tonight I'll try to change, _Steve thought to himself as he quickly sat up and rubbed his tired red eyes.

The high from the weed had long worn off, so Steve opened up the small bag of coke, put some on the mirror, and separated the powder into three, thin lines with the razor. He set the razor down, picked up the straw and brought it to his left nostril while pressing his right nostril closed. Steve quickly snorted the lines, dropped the straw on the floor and rubbed his nose. As he did so, his nose began to bleed. He swiftly got up and grabbed a napkin from the kitchen and shoved it in his left nostril to prevent blood from getting everywhere.

_This is the only downside of snorting… I should really just stick to shooting up. Should I wait until my nose stops bleeding before I go out? Nah, my johns won't care… Who knows, maybe I'll get one that has a fetish for nosebleeds. We'll see, _Steve thought to himself as he grabbed a pair of tight, dark blue jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt and put them on.

After he got dressed, the blonde removed the blood-soaked napkin from his nostril, threw it on the counter and shoved a clean napkin back into his nostril. He put on his new black jacket that a john bought him as a gift, sprayed himself with a copious amount of Adidas brand cologne, slipped on his black tennis shoes and rushed out the door, praying to himself that tonight would be a great score.

Steve stood by the curb for five minutes until a black Pontiac Sunfire with tinted windows approached him. The blonde sauntered over to the car, making sure to appear confident and relaxed, though on the inside his mind was racing from the cocaine. He assumed the man wouldn't have enough money for his services with the cheap vehicle he drove, but Steve decided to give the trick a shot.

"Hey, looking for something?" Steve asked smoothly as the window rolled down, revealing an attractive older man.

The solicitor appeared to be in his late thirties, early forties, and had a slender, though still muscular, build. His hair was wavy, dark brown, and purposely styled to look as if he'd just rolled out of bed. The man had large, beautiful brown eyes, a perfectly groomed goatee, and a deliciously cocky grin. He had on a dark grey pull-over hoodie and dirty, faded blue jeans and was taking a swig of liquor from a small silver flask.

Steve was taken aback by how attractive the man was, and as he stood waiting for the man's reply his heart began to pound even faster. He wanted to rush into the car, park in an alley, and get fucked so hard by the solicitor that he wouldn't be able to walk for several days, but Steve immediately pushed the thought away. He attributed it to his cocaine-fueled high, and he twitched a little in anticipation as he watched the man toss the flask in the back seat before slowly opening his mouth.

"Get in," the man said as he flashed a grin at the prostitute he hoped would service him for the night.

Steve did as he was told, and soon they were pulling into a seedy motel not far from his apartment. As soon as the two men arrived, the trick pulled out a fifty dollar bill and handed it to the blonde.

"Go inside, give the clerk the fifty for a room, and get in our room. I'll come in couple of minutes after you; I have to take care of a few things," the man said as he shooed Steve out of the car.

The blonde walked into the motel office, handed the fifty to the female clerk through a slot under the glass window that separated them, and she gave him a key to room twenty-two in return. He gave the woman a thank-you nod, left the office and proceeded to strut to room twenty-two.

He flicked on the lights and observed his surroundings. The room was very plain; the sheets and pillows were a dull white, the floor was covered with a shitty brown carpet, and the walls were stained a dingy yellow from the years of chain smokers using the motel. There was a nightstand made of light brown wood to the left of the bed, and a large, clunky phone was placed on top. A painting of a cabin was hung on the wall above the bed, and the glass encasing it was cracked on the right-hand corner.

After taking in the scene, Steve took off his black shoes, set them next to the door and opened the drawer in the nightstand. He found a blood-stained Bible, took it out of the drawer and casually flipped through the pages, not looking at any passage in particular.

"So, what's your name? Prostitute? Man-whore? Filthy little bitch?" the john asked with a smile as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Grant, actually. What's your name, pathetic loser who needs to fuck hot young men because no one else wants him?" Steve responded sassily as he put the Bible back in the drawer and closed it.

"Ouch. Looks like I've got a smug little whore in my motel room tonight. I like that… Well, I guess since you told me your name I might as well tell you mine. I'm Tony. You don't know who I am, do you?" Tony asked cautiously as he took off his black Converse shoes and tossed them next to Steve's.

"Why, am I supposed to? I've never slept with you before and I've never seen you around this neighborhood," Steve answered honestly as he slowly walked over to the brunette.

"Just wondered. Now are you going to come over here and give me what I need or not?" Tony whined as he ripped off his dark grey hoodie and tossed it on the floor.

"Depends on how much money you've got," the blonde answered as he wrapped his hands around the smaller man's ass and pulled him flush against his body.

"Believe me, I've got more than enough to pay for your services. Don't even question me on that. You'll get what I decide to pay you when you're done, and I can promise you it could be more than a hundred dollars if you do me right. I've got a few kinks, what are you willing to do?" the brunette asked as he licked his lips with a mixture of nervousness and lust in his voice.

"I refuse to do anything with vomit, urine, or shit. I won't pretend to be a kid, and I sure as hell won't pretend I'm dead. Also, I won't rub balloons all over my body while you watch. I had a trick ask for that once and I'll never do it again," Steve responded with a straight face as he stared deep into Tony's eyes.

"Alright, well it's your lucky day since I don't want you to pop balloons, cuddle with them, or put your dick in one. That's just fucking weird. All I want you to do is pretend I'm a bug and squish me. Then use me as a piece of furniture for an hour or two. And after that, I'll put on a blonde wig and when you fuck me, call me Sally," Tony responded with a serious expression as he narrowed his eyes at the prostitute.

"If that's what you want," the blonde responded with a small shrug as he kneaded Tony's ass through his thin jeans.

"No, I'm just fucking with you. The fact that you'll do it though is pretty cool. You're really devoted to your profession, aren't you? I've met plenty of women that'll do those things, but a man-whore? I haven't met one yet. Most of you seem to be pretty vanilla these days…" Tony responded as he gripped the front of Steve's pants and palmed his half-hard cock through the fabric.

"Well, what do you want then?" Steve questioned, growing irritated by Tony's rambling, long-winded statements.

"I want to take turns doing coke lines off of each other's bodies before we get started. And before you say you don't do that shit, it's obvious. I saw that wadded up napkin you had jammed up your nose that you tossed aside when you saw me pull up. Not to mention the track-marks on your arms… You should really cover them up if you're going to do business. Everyone knows that you're doing this for a fix and for a lot of people that's a turn-off. Lucky for you I've got enough money to feed your habit for the rest of your life…" Tony answered as he pulled a bag of the pure, white powder from the front right pocket of his baggy, faded blue jeans.

Steve immediately felt a desperate craving for the drug, and he quickly grabbed the bag from Tony's hand and pushed him down on the bed.

"Take off your clothes," the prostitute replied as he took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled six-pack and firm pecs.

"Damn you're fucking sexy. I thought you looked good but Jesus Christ you're even hotter than I could have imagined… You look super familiar though. I can't put my finger on it, but you do. I know I've seen you somewhere…" Tony rambled aimlessly as he swiftly removed his pants, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"Well I've never seen you. Now take off your shirt," Steve instructed as he removed he tossed the baggie of coke on the bed before quickly removing his almost skin-tight dark blue jeans.

"No, that's one thing I don't do. The shirt stays on. Plus it's a Black Sabbath shirt, and they're kick ass! And do you always wear girl's panties?" Tony asked, cocking up his left eyebrow as he pointed at the dark red, frilly booty shorts that the blonde was wearing.

"Tricks tend to enjoy it, so I only wear them when I'm working. And I really don't like rock much; I'm more of a big band kind of guy. I like club music too though, I party a lot," the blonde answered casually as he joined Tony on the bed and flipped him over.

"I pictured you more as a guy that does drugs alone in his apartment, all morose and miserable. But good thing you share in the high with other people, drugs aren't fun when you're by yourself. Well, I guess weed's not too bad when you're alone, but the rest are. You might as well just go to a rehab clinic and get clean, because at least you'll make some friends there..." the brunette mumbled before Steve's hand clamped down on his mouth.

"Shut up. Just shut up," the prostitute sighed as he poured some of the powder on the cheeks of Tony's ass.

He went into Tony's pants pocket, pulled out his black wallet and quickly took out a credit card. Steve took a quick peek at the rest of the wallet's contents and saw several hundred dollars inside, and he mumbled a quick prayer to God that he would go home with every last cent. After a few seconds, the blonde put the wallet back in Tony's pants pocket and went to work on the coke. He used the card to crush the powder and divide it up into two long, thin lines on each cheek. Without missing a beat, Steve closed his left nostril with his finger and snorted all four lines of the powder into his right nostril as if he was a Hoover vacuum.

"Damn, this is some strong stuff!" Steve exclaimed as his whole body shivered in delight from the stimulant.

"Yeah, I know, it's great. Now it's my turn, so get off of my ass," Tony replied anxiously as he attempted to roll over and snatch the bag from Steve.

The blonde grabbed both of Tony's hands and clasped them behind his back, preventing him from turning over onto his back. He began to feel the effects of the cocaine pumping through his system, and he felt a strong desire to dominate his solicitor. As the brunette squirmed in an attempt to break free, Steve got on top of him, squishing the smaller man with his body weight.

"God dammit, Grant! Get the fuck off of me, you're heavy as fuck and I think I'm going to die. My lung probably collapsed you son of a bitch!" the trick wailed in frustration as he tried to buck Steve off of him.

"I know this is what you want. When you said you had a kink, I'm pretty sure it was more than just having me do lines off of your perfect ass. Now you're not getting any coke until you tell me exactly what you're in the mood for, " Steve whispered as he leaned down so his mouth was right next to Tony's ear.

"Fine, fine, I'll admit this is my thing. And I know my ass is perfect, you don't need to tell me that," Tony snapped in frustration, feeling a mixture of arousal and fear from Steve's sudden domination.

"What do you want me to do to you, Tony? Tell me every dirty, filthy detail. I'll give you anything you want tonight," Steve promised as he nibbled on the brunette's left earlobe.

"I want you to use me. Abuse me. Treat me like the depraved piece of shit that I am. Choke me so hard I almost pass out. Leave bruises all over my body that I'll never be able to explain. Fuck me so hard that I won't want be able to walk. Hell, if you're not terrified of a little blood, draw it. Punish me for all of the fucked up things that I am, Grant," Tony moaned in response, growing harder from the sensation of Steve's tongue swirling around his ear.

Immediately after the words left Tony's lips, Steve pushed Tony's face down into the mattress. He ripped the brunette's shirt off and threw the tattered mess of fabric across the room. Steve sunk his teeth deep into the flesh on Tony's shoulder, eliciting a sharp cry from the smaller man. He worked his way down his trick's back, biting each of his shoulders and his sides as if he was working at an assembly line. He nipped at the brunette's flesh so aggressively that small drops of blood bubbled up from the teeth marks that were imprinted in Tony's tender flesh.

"Fuck! Oh God that fucking hurts, Grant! I need more!" the brunette cried out as he gripped the bed sheets until his knuckles turned white.

Steve got up off of the bed and reached into the left back pocket and pulled out a switchblade and walked back over to the bed. He grabbed Tony by the hair and forced him to make eye contact. His pupils were dilated with lust, and his cheeks were stained with tears.

"You want more? Let's knife play," Steve purred as he pushed a button on the left-side of the knife, causing it to spring open and reveal a large, sharp blade.

Tony's eyes went wide with a mixture of terror and excitement as the prostitute brought the blade to the brunette's cheek. He ran the blade across the delicate flesh, leaving a long, thin cut in the skin. It was not a very deep cut; Steve only pressed enough so a little bit of blood would be drawn. More tears dripped from the brunette's eyes, and Steve got down on his knees by the edge of the bed and licked away his tears.

"Aww, is the whiney little rich bitch scared? You're such a pussy Tony, you know that? Real men don't cry the way you are right now… You should just have a sex change and live your life as a woman, you pathetic little slut!" the blonde said sharply as he slapped Tony in the face, causing the skin to turn a bright shade of pink almost instantly.

Steve brought the knife to Tony's face and cut him again, directly underneath the first wound. As the brunette sniffled and tried to hold back his tears, Steve climbed back onto the bed and straddled Tony, who was still lying on his stomach. He planted painfully hard kisses on each of the bite wounds he inflicted, and he slowly dragged the knife down his john's back. Steve made three vertical cuts down the entire length of Tony's back, taking care not to push the blade too deeply into the brunette's skin. The ex-soldier had only done knife play once before, and it ended with Steve dumping the body in a seedy alley for someone to find later. He actually felt a strange connection to Tony, and the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally kill him.

"Fuck, Grant!" the brunette cried out as Steve finished cutting the third line into his patron's beautiful olive skin.

"Shut up you worthless waste of life! No one wants to listen to you, you boring, pathetic piece of trash. Now if you continue talking I'm going to have to slit your throat, and I don't think we want someone to have to put you in a body bag, now do we?" Steve threatened as he grabbed Tony by the hair with his left hand and brought the blade to his throat with the other.

Tony instantly closed his mouth at the threat, and he let his body go slack in submission. The pain from the cuts was become a dull, throbbing ache, and he was curious to know how much blood had risen from the wounds. Steve, appearing to read his trick's mind, swiped his finger in some of the blood and brought it to the smaller man's mouth.

"Open your mouth and lick your blood off my fingers you vile little pussy," Steve commanded, shoving his fingers into Tony's mouth before he even had a chance to respond.

While there was not much blood, it was still enough to shock Tony. No one had abused him this way before, and it made him feel eerily alive to see and taste his blood when the wounds were given by someone else. He had cut himself on and off since he was a teenager, though the thrill of it had been lost several years ago. Feeling his skin being sliced open at the mercy of a beautiful, drug addicted stranger gave Tony a rush he hadn't felt in years. As he pondered the idea of hiring Steve to be his personal sex assistant, his thoughts were cut short when Steve tossed the knife on the other side of the bed, got off of Tony and flipped the brunette onto his back.

"You like the sting of your cuts rubbing against the sheets you fucking…Wait a second, what's this?" Steve questioned as he ran his finger gently around the rim of the arc reactor, staring in complete awe at the glowing blue device.

"It's keeping me alive… Don't touch it or ask me any more questions about it," Tony replied harshly, feeling a hot flush of humiliation overtake his face and chest.

"Oh, poor little Tony's blushing from shame! You are such a weak little man… I think you deserve to be punished for that," the prostitute chastised as the pinched both of Tony's nipples as hard as he could, causing the brunette to cry out in pain.

Steve shoved three blood stained fingers from his left hand into his trick's mouth, shutting him up. He lowered his mouth down to Tony's purpling right nipple and pressed several soft, fluttery kisses to it before taking it into his mouth. Steve sucked on the tender skin until it began to bleed from powerful, painful tugging it received from the prostitute's mouth. Tony let out a loud groan as Steve removed his mouth from his nipple and fingers from his mouth, and the prostitute quickly worked his way down to his client's engorged cock.

"Even with all of those pretty little cuts and bruises on your skin you're still an ugly old man… I should just castrate you right now," the blonde hissed as he grabbed the knife and brought it to Tony's spread thighs.

"Jesus fucking Christ, please don't do that! I don't want to be a eunuch the rest of my life… Grant, I know I'm a worthless piece of shit but don't take away the only thing about me that's worth something!" Tony pleaded loudly as he covered his eyes and peeked through the cracks of his fingers.

"This is the only thing that's worth something to you? Wow, it's not even that impressive. No wonder no one wants you. You have such an average, boring cock, Tony. I wouldn't be surprised if you're a virgin…" Steve responded callously as he striped the brunette's thighs with dozens of small cuts.

As the blood collected on top of Tony's skin, Steve swiped it up and smeared it on the arc reactor, causing the smaller man to gasp loudly.

"You shouldn't even be alive… Look at all that blood on that stupid night light on your chest. The only thing that makes you beautiful is the blood smeared all over your body. Once you wash it away, you're just going to be the miserable little bitch that found me on the street," the prostitute remarked with a devilish grin as he tossed the knife to the side and took Tony's cock into his mouth.

Tears trailed down Tony's cheeks as Steve took his cock all the way into his throat. He watched as the prostitute he hired for the night gagged on his length, and saw that his face and hands were spattered with small dots of blood. Tony felt completely and utterly humiliated, and seeing his sliced and diced flesh sent an unsettling wave of pleasure through his body.

"That's enough pleasure for you, I think. Your ass is mine. Now get on the mattress face down, ass up. Now," Steve commanded as he took Tony's cock out of his mouth and slapped both of the brunette's thighs painfully hard.

Tony yelped in response and quickly got into the desired position. As he waited, he heard a bottle being popped open, and soon its contents were dripped down his ass crack. Steve gently rubbed the lube around Tony's asshole with his left index finger and promptly shoved it in, making the brunette groan loudly.

"Damn, your asshole's pretty tight, Tony. I'm going to have to fix that. Worthless people like you don't deserve to have nice, tight holes," Steve snarled as he forcefully shoved his middle, ring, and pinky finger inside of his client's ass.

"Fuck me, Grant! Goddamn stop making me wait!" Tony screamed into a dingy white pillow as Steve stretched the brunette's hole open with his large, rough fingers, shoving them roughly in and out of his body.

Steve swiftly pulled out his fingers and shoved his cock in, giving Tony no time to adjust to his unnaturally large, thick cock. As he pounded into Tony's ass, Steve wrapped his right hand around the smaller man's throat, choking him as he fucked wildly into him. He would let go for a few seconds when his client's face turned blue so he wouldn't choke to death, but as soon as the brunette took several deep breaths Steve would tighten his grip again.

"G-grant… Touch… Me…" Tony groaned hoarsely when Steve released his tight grip on his throat.

The prostitute did as he was told, and gave Tony's cock three rough, painful jerks, causing the trick to cry out in a mixture of pain as pleasure as he came all over the sheets.

As the muscles in Tony's asshole clenched around Steve's cock, he forcefully pulled out of the smaller man's body. Close to the edge, the prostitute stroked his cock in short, quick strokes as his orgasm raged through him, sending ropes of semen onto Tony's lower back and ass cheeks.

After a few seconds, Steve came down from his post-orgasm high, shoved his left index finger inside of his client's ass, causing him to twitch in response. He pulled out his finger, flipped Tony onto his back, and promptly straddled him, crushing the smaller man's now-soft cock with his body weight.

"Your ass is ruined, just so you know," Steve stated nonchalantly as he wagged his blood stained left index finger in Tony's face.

"Holy shit… I really don't think I'm ever going to be able to walk again. You're incredible, you know that Grant? I think I'm going to have to come down here every weekend and get my fix," Tony responded weakly as he took the prostitute's finger into his mouth and sucked the blood off.

"You can call me Steve," the blonde blurted out without a second thought as Tony cleaned his large, calloused finger.

"Steve? Oh my God, now I know why you looked so familiar! I just fucked Captain America!" Tony exclaimed loudly as brought his hands up to Steve's cheeks and examined his face.

"No you did…" Steve tried to reply in protest, but the brunette quickly cut him off.

"I'm Howard Stark's son, Tony! He talked about you all the time, and I had a stuffed doll of you and everything! I used to masturbate to your old pictures all the time… My dad said you just kind of wandered off after the war, and no one knew where you went! I can't believe you're alive!" Tony squealed excitedly as he brought Steve down for a passionate, powerful kiss.

"You're Howard's son? I should have guessed, you look a lot like him! He'd be so ashamed if he could see what I've become… Partying, doing drugs, paying for my apartment and habit with my body… Why did you have to be the one to pick me up?" Steve sighed heavily as he got up from the bed and swiftly put all of his clothing back on.

"Hey, we all go off the deep end sometimes, Steve. Believe me, look at what I'm doing. I live in Malibu, but I drive out to shitty places in L.A in a crappy Sunfire here to the shitty places to fuck prostitutes who don't know who I am. Not only that, but I pay people to physically abuse me! If you ask me, he'd be ashamed of me too. Well, he always seemed to be, so this probably wouldn't shock him too much," Tony responded softly as he carefully sat up on the bed and looked at the drug-addicted ex-soldier.

"With all the money you have, I'm surprised you don't just find some trophy wife to settle down with… Me, I've made my bed and I have to lie in it. This is the life I made for myself, and it's just the way it is… Keep your money, I don't want it," the blonde said quietly as he walked over to the door to pick up his shoes.

"Steve, please, please don't leave. Listen, I have a proposition. I'm not going to take no for an answer, so just listen to me. I live alone in a beautiful mansion, I'm lonely as fuck, and I'd like to have something good in my life for a change. Now I know you and I are both fucked up, but we can help each other get better. You're all alone too, and I think we'd make a good team," Tony replied as he slowly got up from the bed, hobbled over to Steve and embraced him.

"We both have addictions, Tony. Yours is to sex and abuse and mine is to drugs. I don't think it would be good for two people like us to live in the same place…" Steve replied as he unconsciously kissed the brunette tenderly on his forehead.

"Please, just give this a chance, Steve. I've loved you since I was a kid, and I don't want you to live this life anymore. I've got people who can help us both… And honestly, I think you feel that this was more than just meaningless sex, because I do," the brunette stated bluntly as he wrapped his arms tighter around the blonde.

Steve, unable to find any words to express himself, simply nodded his head yes in response. Tony responded enthusiastically, and the two spent the rest of the night talking about their lives and cuddling on the bed (after dressing Tony's wounds of course). As they drifted off to sleep, Steve prayed to God.

_This is the best score I've had yet. Thanks for giving me a second chance, amen, _Steve prayed silently before falling asleep cradled in Tony's strong, lean arms.


	2. Chapter 2

"Steve…" Tony said groggily as he stretched his right arm out to the other side of the bed, hoping to make contact with the blonde's solid body.

The ex-soldier was no longer lying next to him, however, and the realization made Tony snap into full-consciousness. He was terrified that his hero cut out of the motel sometime during the night, even though the two men came to an agreement that Steve would come to Malibu and live in the genius' large, spacious mansion. The last thing Tony wanted was to let the man that inspired him for his entire life slip through his fingers like fine, gritty sand, and he rushed out of the bed to make sure his belongings were still in the room.

He quickly grabbed his old blue jeans, which were hanging off the bed, and pulled out his wallet to see if the prostitute took off with his money. Tony breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the hundreds of dollars and all of the credit cards in his billfold were still there, and he took a minute to observe his surroundings. He noticed that Steve's clothes were still on the floor, with the exception of his frilly red underwear, and that the bathroom door was cracked open.

The genius carefully got up from the bed and felt pain on virtually every inch of his body. He looked down at his thighs, which were now bruised a dark purple, and the tiny slices in his skin that complimented the bruises beautifully. Tony couldn't see his back, but he assumed that it looked like an expensive, perfect, and desirable piece of abstract art. He loved the sight of clean, well-placed slices into his tender flesh and the pain from the bruises left over from the sadistic actions of the men, and occasionally women, he slept with. Nothing felt better to Tony than physical pain; it took his mind off of the loneliness and emptiness he constantly felt inside, if only for a little while. When Steve was the one performing the knife play and forcing him to lap up his blood, Tony felt oddly satisfied and at peace with life.

_Don't let yourself fall for the Star Spangled Man with a Plan… He'll end up being like everyone else and leave you. Just feel lucky that he used you and abused you once, because you're more than likely not going to get it again… Just because he's agreed to live with you means nothing. He's just hitching a ride because you have money and a nice place to live. _

_He'll never have to sell his ass or his cock again, and he probably won't kick his habit. Steve will take your money and shoot, snort, and smoke anything he can find. You're doing this because you're lonely and you owe it to Captain America to try and give him a better life. He doesn't owe you shit, and he'll fuck and suck you just for your money, _Tony thought to himself as he walked over to the bathroom and slowly opened the door.

When he walked in, he noticed that Steve had a band on the top of his arm, restricting blood flow and allowing the ex-soldier's veins to stick out. He had a needle in between his teeth, getting ready to inject himself with his next fix. Tony wasn't sure what it was, and he didn't want Steve to do this to himself anymore, but if he could at least help him administer the substance into his veins he would. He hoped that it would build some trust between them, and maybe Steve would fall for him, though it was a long shot. Even though Tony knew he didn't love the man yet, he did have strong feelings for him and felt a strong desire to protect him and take him away from this empty life.

"What's in the syringe, Steve?" Tony asked as he sauntered over to Steve, took the needle out of the blonde's mouth and pressed a kiss to his lips.

"Heroin. It's probably terrible quality but I don't care. I just need a little in my system. Got it when you were asleep," Steve responded, moving his hand in a "give it back" motion to his ex-client.

"I'll get it, no need to worry your pretty little head, princess," Tony smirked as he gently stuck the needle into Steve's arm and pushed down on the plunger, sending the impure substance directly into the blonde's bloodstream.

After he administered the illegal drug, Tony pulled out the needle, tossed it in the garbage and promptly removed the band from Steve's arm. He wadded up some tissue to place it on the injection site to sop up the little bead of blood from the puncture mark, but he found that no blood was shed. He shrugged, wiped Steve's watery eyes with it instead and set it in the sink.

As the heroin took effect, Steve began to smile from ear to ear. He loved the euphoric feeling he experienced when he was on the drug, and it made him forget about just how low he'd sunk in the world. Not much could take away the pain like drugs did, and while it only lasted for a brief period it was worth the money in Steve's mind. He was disappointed in himself for going back on his thank you to God from last night, but he couldn't help it. Steve couldn't go without it, and while this was his second chance at having a good life, he didn't want to have it unless drugs were still a part of it.

"Have you ever heard that song 'Fuck the Pain Away' Tony?" Steve asked in a soft, kind voice as he slowly sunk down to his knees, his warm, moist breath causing Tony's dick to rise in excitement.

"Is that the one where she says something about sucking on her titties and staying in school? Because if so then yes. You know it's a pretty good song, but sometimes I like techno but not all that o- Ooh fuck, Steve your mouth is fucking incredible…" Tony moaned as Steve took his cock all the way in his mouth and hummed around it.

Steve didn't have much of a gag reflex anymore; he'd lost it years ago when he started hooking. It only took one embarrassing puking incident for him to learn that there was no room for failure in deep throating, as most clients wanted it. Luckily the client he vomited on had a kink for it, but he wanted Steve to slurp it all up off of his cock and it was not a particularly pleasurable experience.

Tony's cock was pretty easy to take into his mouth. It was completely average; it was only about six inches and a little girthy, but it was by no means impressive. He was relieved by that fact, as he was no size queen and never saw a point in monster cocks. There was nothing attractive about them at all, and Steve always hated how much his ass hurt the next day after a particularly well-endowed trick fucked him into the mattress.

"Fuck, you like my cock, don't you Steve? Look at how pretty you look on my dick… Couldn't imagine a better sight. Shit, where in the fuck did you get a tongue like that!" Tony cried out in shock as Steve pulled off of the billionaire's erection and swirled his tongue around the head, lapping hungrily at the precome forming at Tony's slit.

This was incredible vanilla for Steve, and the fact that he was actually enjoyingthis was a shock to him. Rarely did he enjoy the things he did with the men who paid him, but something about Tony was different. He loved the way Tony tasted, his need for stimulation, the way he begged Steve to live with him… Steve hadn't had these kind of feelings for someone since Peggy all those years ago, but he chalked it up to his heroin high and shrugged it off.

He spit on the tip of Tony's rock hard cock and spread it around the head and base with his rough fingers, eliciting a gasp from the man he was satisfying. When Tony's dick was slathered in Steve's spit, he got up from his kneeling position and pressed himself against the bathroom wall, spreading his legs far apart. He motioned for Tony to join him, and the lonely, desperate man hesitantly walked over, pressed his cockhead at Steve's entrance and pushed in slowly, giving the blonde's un-prepped hole a little time to adjust to the foreign intrusion. Steve was used to tricks only using spit as lubricant, or on occasion nothing at all.

Steve loved to mix his drug induced highs with sex; it made him feel useful instead of just a washed out veteran with an insatiable habit. He'd never admit it to anyone, but prostitution was the only thing that made him feel like he mattered. While it didn't provide lasting emotional comfort and forced him to keep his heart closed to everyone around him, at least it lessened the shame and emptiness that came with his fall to rock bottom.

As Tony thrust hard and fast into Steve's tight hole, the prostitute began to feel sick to his stomach. The billionaire slammed Steve into the wall with each snap of his hips, and the motion made Steve feel dizzy. Whenever he used questionable heroin, Steve would often feel the need to vomit, though usually he was able to resist the urge. The way Tony was pounding away at his ass and forcing him into the wall over and over again was too much, however, and Steve quickly pulled the brunet's dick out of his ass and rushed over to the toilet.

"Fuck, Steve, if you felt sick you didn't need to screw me. For God's sake you're not under any obligation to sell yourself to me anymore…" Tony sighed as he knelt down beside Steve and gently stroked his back in small, gentle circles.

_Shit… I thought I was messed up, look at Cap. At least I never had a drug problem, unless alcohol counts, which I totally think it doesn't. That's nothing compared to this... When I get Steve to Malibu I'm taking him to a rehab center and there's not a goddamn thing he's going to do about it. I'm not going to let him keep doing this shit to himself, he's better than this! _Tony decided as he watched Steve vomit up yellow bile, the smell so pungent that it stung his eyes.

Even though Tony carried drugs on him the majority of the time, he never actually did them. LSD, heroin, cocaine… None of it had ever entered his system. The only reason he brought it with him when he picked up prostitutes was because it was the only way they'd be willing to torture him the way he desired. Few of them wanted to tie him up, slap him around, or even think about leaving marks on his beautiful olive skin. Giving them the one thing that kept them numb enough to continue their jobs in the world's oldest profession was the surefire approach to take, and although they tended to do a piss poor job while under the influence, it was good enough for him.

This time, however, he felt guilty condoning drug use and playing a role in its administration. It was Steve, the only man he ever looked up to, and to see him in such a deplorable, pathetic condition broke his heart. Watching his idol suffer this way brought it all home, and he finally realized just how awful it was that he fed people's habits. On the bright side, he reasoned that it wasn't as bad as it could've been since he only bought the purest, most expensive drugs. It was awful nonetheless, and Tony knew there was no way he could justify his actions to satisfy his masochistic kinks.

As Tony thought back to all of those times he exchanged drugs for sex, all of the men so desperate for drugs that they'd suck his cock or let him fuck them in the ass for hours. They were just so beaten up, thrown aside, completely and utterly used up that they didn't care whether they lived or died. They'd lost their faith in a higher power long ago, and if they died they didn't care. Nothing mattered to the downtrodden prostitutes anymore, and Tony was one of the men to blame for their plight.

If men like Tony didn't exist, maybe prostitution wouldn't exist. But people with power could pay for whatever they wanted, and they could take advantage of those in the lower rungs of the societal ladder with ease. There were times Tony didn't even pay his sex workers with cash; he'd simply toss them a nice plastic bag filled with the finest cocaine or the most psychedelic LSD he could get his hands on. He perpetuated this mess, he allowed drug peddling to continue, and worst of all, Tony treated Steve in a way he never would have in his regular life.

He watched as Steve sat up, flushed the toilet and wiped the vomit off of his beautiful, clean shaven face. Tony helped him up, walked him over to the sink and gave him a toothbrush and toothpaste. Steve cleaned his teeth slowly as he looked at himself. His eyes were bloodshot, there were dark bags under his eyes, and his hair was in complete disarray. Steve hated when he came down from the heroin highs; he actually had to look at himself and think about the consequences of his actions. His addiction led him into such a dark place, and maybe, just maybe, Tony could get him out.

"Good, princess. Come to bed with me, let's sit and talk. If you need to puke again let me know and I'll get you the trash can," Tony said calmly as he took Steve carefully by the hand and led him back to the dirty, uncomfortable mattress that had Tony's blood stains all over it.

Tony laid down first and motioned for Steve to join him, and he nodded weakly in response. As he curled up in Tony's arms, he felt completely vulnerable. No trick he'd ever fucked had seen him crash and burn during a high like that, and it made him feel exposed. Steve liked to come off as the tough, strong, and invincible man that terrified his johns into acting like well-behaved gentlemen.

But he couldn't be like that with Tony, and when he began to cry in shame and humiliation it didn't surprise him at all. It felt wonderful to finally feel safe, and even though Tony was essentially a complete stranger that just paid him to slice and dice his skin and fuck his ass until it bled, he felt like he'd known him forever. Steve tried to tell himself that it was because he looked so much like Howard, but he knew deep inside that it wasn't the truth. He'd never opened up to Howard this way, and they'd been best friends back in the war. None of that mattered now, however; all that mattered is that he had a warm body holding him close as he sobbed.

"S-sorry Tony. First time I've cried in years. Don't know, don't know why. So sorry," Steve choked out as he bawled into Tony's firm chest, his tears smearing all over the genius' skin.

"Shh… No reason to be sad, Cap. You just puked is all, nothing to be ashamed of. I've done it more times than I'd like to admit… It's okay, don't apologize," Tony shocked himself by letting out these kind, caring words; he hadn't shown his caring side in years since he and a man named Bruce dated long ago.

_This is all my goddamn fault… If I didn't come here, didn't give him drugs, didn't help him shoot up, he wouldn't be like this right now. He never would have puked in front of me and he wouldn't feel so worthless. All I ever do is make people feel like shit, and I'm not going to pull this with Steve. I'm going to get him out, he's going to be okay, and maybe we'll end up together. That's a stretch, but it's worth trying. What else do I have to lose? _Tony thought to himself as he ran his fingers through Steve's mussed up hair and whispered consoling words into his ear.

Steve tried desperately to pull himself together, dust himself off and act like this incident never happened, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing. Hitting rock bottom was a difficult thing to face head on, and for years he'd simply suppressed the thoughts and used drugs to wash it all away. The drugs were starting to lose their effect on him now, and his heroin highs barely lasted long enough to keep him happy. His tolerance was so high from the years of substance abuse that it would take a lot of money to get the high he craved; money he just didn't have.

_Why are you doing this? Why are you holding me, letting me cry? You just met me… Sure you were my friend's son and grew up with only the good stories about Captain America, but I'm not that person anymore. I don't even know if I ever really was. All I am is an addict, and you're treating me like I'm more than that... There must be a reason more than because he feels bad. Maybe he thinks if he makes me feel good enough and let my guard down that I'll be his prostitute forever. I guess it could be worse, _Steve thought to himself as he slowly regained his composure, trying to keep in mind that Tony was merely a client, and that while he was planning on moving to Malibu with him it was only for a safer living arrangement and maybe a little company.

"Steve, I'm never going to let bastards like me hurt you again. All of us are scum… Complete pieces of shit and you don't deserve this. You deserve a good life, and I'm going to give it to you," Tony promised as he wiped the tears away from Steve's red, puffy eyes, and he smiled for a brief second before giving Steve one of the most intimate kisses in his life.

"You know not all tricks are bad, Tony. I've had some wonderful people come to me just to feel cared about, and for some reason they liked me. I got a lot of those actually, like you," Steve admitted as he sniffled and Tony reached over and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand for the prostitute to blow his nose with.

"Tell me about one of them. I really don't know if I believe you… I really think we're all pretty damn fucked up for us to actually look for people like you, no offense to your profession. I think prostitution's not a bad thing and hell if I could I'd give you all healthcare and give you a safe place to work, but that wouldn't be too good for Stark Industries," Tony rambled, and Steve pressed a finger to his lips to silence him.

"Hmm… Well I guess I'll tell you about Nick. He called himself Fury though, because he always had to put on a tough face. He was a leader of the South Side Shields, a gang that's notorious for their initiation ritual. They actually scoop out one of your eyes… Imagine that. That's actually what happened to him, because he rose to the top and wasn't the founder or anything like that. So he always wore this leather eye patch that covered up the lid they'd sewn shut. He showed it to me when he picked me up for the first time to scare me and to make me follow his orders and demands.

"The first time we fucked, he was actually a lot like you, except it was flipped the other way around. He swore a lot like you do, and he had a demanding presence. I actually had a lot of respect for that. I like guys like you and Fury, it's nice to not deal with sheepish people all the time. Most of the tricks I've had whine and won't tell me what they want, and half of them have a hard time getting their dicks up because they never really get a chance to use 'em. Fury definitely wasn't one of those guys.

"I'm not really into big cocks because they hurt too much, but for some reason Fury was gentle and it wasn't terrible. After him I thought that I'd enjoy them, but I still don't. He just had this touch and genuine care about not hurting me; he didn't show that until we got to the hotel. Sure he swore at me, slapped me around and sucked me so hard I thought it'd come off, but when he actually put it inside me Nick was so gentle.

"After we were done he wanted to cuddle. That's always a weird request because normally they throw their money at me and cut and run. Not him; honestly it didn't even seem like he wanted the sex at all. And it turned out I was right. He admitted to me that he thought the only way he'd get to be close to someone, anyone, was if he fucked a hooker and maybe they'd let him cuddle. Most of the time he ended up disappointed because most of us refuse to, but since I know I can overpower just about anyone I have no problem with it.

"He opened up to me, told me about his time in the gang, why he joined, and how he wanted to get out but didn't know any other life. It was all he knew, and Fury knew he was going to die that way. He knew there was no good way out of this, and if he tried to leave he'd get killed, so either way it didn't matter. Fury was a dead man walking, and he never knew when he was going to die. But when he talked to me, told me these things, he really was a good person. Sure he lied a lot, stole cars, killed rival gang members from the L.A Lokis, but deep down he only did those things because he didn't have any other options.

"So after we talked, he'd come to me twice a week, and all we'd do was go to the motel and watch movies. His favorite was 'Pulp Fiction.' I never really got into it, but we watched it every time we were together. I think it gave him hope that he'd get out, but I'll never know. But I'll admit, I never charged him a dime for my services. It's not like we ever fucked again after that first night.

"After six months of it, we were coming out of the motel and two of Loki's thugs gunned him down. I took my knife and took after them, killed every last one of those guys. They were terrified of me, and I have no idea why they didn't try and shoot me. I rushed back to him, dragged him back into our room and he died. Bled to death. He loved me too… Can you believe it? A guy like me getting love from anyone is ridiculous… I'll admit I miss seeing him sometimes, and it's been a while since he died. I guess at least God answered my prayer when I asked him to let Nick die with someone he loved there, and it was me." Steve's eyes began to water again at the memory, though he quickly blotted them away with a tissue; he didn't want Tony to see him cry anymore, because he hated feeling so vulnerable.

Tony didn't say anything; he wasn't sure what to say. He'd never heard of a john being so kind, though he knew that they had a habit of falling in love with the prostitutes they frequently called upon and paid. Tony thought they were all sick and fucked up like he was, just looking for anyone that would give him the torture he wanted, but in that moment Steve proved him wrong.

Not only that, but he was confused as to what Steve meant by saying he was a good trick. That didn't make sense to him at all, as he made his ex-prostitute feel like all he was good for was sex. Tony didn't feel that way at all now that he knew the man he'd slept with was Captain America, but in his heart he understood that if it had been anyone else, he couldn't care less if they lived or died. He prayed that Steve would be able to change all of that, and he hoped that if God existed that He would listen.

As Tony was lost in thought, Steve's face began to turn pale and a greenish tint. He tapped Tony on the shoulder to get his attention, and the brunet immediately grabbed the trash can. Steve puked violently, projecting it all the way to the bottom of the trash bag protected plastic. It tore what little heart Tony had to shreds to see Steve's body rejecting the heroin in such a violent way, and he regretted not taking the needle and squirting its illegal contents into the garbage bin with all of Tony's bloody bandages.

Feelings that he thought were dead, buried six feet under and bloated with maggots were now beginning to bubble to the surface again. He felt a deep pang of guilt and concern rise as he watched Steve heave his guts out, though now it was only dry. Tony cared a lot about Steve, even though he'd never met him until the night before, and he desperately wanted to nurture him. He knew that nothing would ever be enough to take away the trauma, the emptiness, and the damage that Steve suffered during the many years he went through the motions, jumped through hoops, and played the sex game.

"Steve, you gonna be okay? Lay down on your side, it helps me when I feel like I'm gonna hurl. Happens all the time since I drink a lot. I'm the expert on puke, so here, let me help," Tony waited for Steve to stop heaving, moved the trash can and helped him onto his side.

He got off of the bed, went into the bathroom to pour Steve a glass of water and came back and helped him drink. Steve was sweaty, there were dark circles under his eyes and there was a little bit of puke on the corner of his mouth. Tony wiped it away, wicked the sweat from his brow, and curled up behind him, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist.

"Thanks… Must have been bad stuff. Should be out of my system soon," the blonde assured Tony as he vomited up the water he just drank, flushing his system again.

After vomiting for another half hour, Steve's body was so spent that he passed out, leaving Tony to worry. He knew that Steve hadn't overdosed, but it scared him to watch his childhood hero suffer like that. Tony had never been in a situation like this with someone that he actually gave two shits about, and all he could think to do was hold him. The billionaire rested his head on Steve's shoulder, rubbed his fallen hero's firm, flat belly, staying wide awake and monitoring all of Steve's movements.

Two hours later, Steve woke up. He was rejuvenated; his eyes were no longer bloodshot, his skin regained its lightly tan, healthy hue, and his stomach was no longer upset. He put his hands affectionately over Tony's and he squeezed them lightly, letting his ex-john know that he regained consciousness. Tony quickly sprang to life, flipped him over and planted a firm kiss to his lips, completely taking him off guard. Steve didn't like this, didn't want this, and was a bit disturbed by the fact that Tony cared so much. They only met yesterday, and while Steve had some feelings of attraction toward the older man it wasn't enough to act this way so fast.

"Calm down, Tony, I'm not dead! You don't need to get so worked up about it… This has happened before and it's gonna happen again. It's just how it goes. Now we should really get out of this hotel, it's about six o'clock now, and if we stay any longer we might have to pay more," Steve said in a stern, cold voice, trying to snap both himself and Tony out of this intimate moment.

Steve's change in attitude hurt Tony, but he knew he was acting ridiculous. It wasn't appropriate for him to behave this way, especially not toward a man who was virtually a stranger. He hadn't told Steve anything about his life, and he'd barely asked the blonde about his. The feelings were irrational and a little crazy, but it all boiled down to one single point; a strong need to protect the man who once represented America.

"Steve, can you go out to my car and grab the duffel bag that's in the backseat?" Tony asked as he slowly untangled himself from Steve and got off of the deplorable mattress.

The prostitute nodded his head as he slipped on his crumpled up clothes that were lying in a careless heap. He wanted to ask why, but he knew not to ask questions. When a man worked in the under the table sex business, they had an unspoken rule; do not question anything that a trick does or asks. Tony tossed him the keys to his shitty car, and Steve retrieved the small black duffel. It was light as air, and Steve had no idea what it could possibly contain that Tony needed. He'd find out soon enough though, and Steve secretly hoped that it was at the very least some weed. His skin was itching, he was twitchy and he needed some drug, any drug, in his system.

"Thanks, princess," Tony said appreciatively as he grabbed the canvas bag and took it into the bathroom.

"Please be drugs, please be drugs, please be drugs,"Steve quietly chanted over and over again as he leaned against the door that led to the parking lot, tapping his foot in impatience and intense need.

Tony heard Steve's quiet whispers, but he ignored them and closed the door. He felt terrible that Steve was so desperate for drugs that he wanted Tony to carry a whole bagful, and he knew he'd be disappointed when the billionaire stepped out of the room empty handed.

He unzipped the bag and pulled out a contact case, some contact solution, a wig cap and a medium length blonde wig. Tony first put on the wig cap, pushing all of his beautiful brown locks underneath. He pulled on the adjustable straps at the back of the cap until it fit his head perfectly so it would stay in place. He carefully placed the blonde wig over it, making sure that it looked it was his real hair. Tony brushed it a little with his fingers before washing his hands.

When he opened up his contact lens case, he admired the lenses inside for a brief moment. They were a beautiful, pale blue, and he always enjoyed wearing them. Blue eyes were his favorite, and he secretly wished that he'd been born with them. He poured a little solution into the lenses, popped them in, and wiped the excess solution away from his eyes. Finally he pulled out his razor and a mini bottle of shaving cream, lathered up his face and shaved off his stubble and goatee, giving him a completely different look.

Steve's mouth dropped when Tony stepped out of the bathroom; he didn't even look like the same person, and he was completely puzzled by his ex-client's getup. After a minute of gawking, he immediately put the pieces together and realized that he didn't want anyone to recognize him when they were out on the street. He had a reputation to keep, and Tony had yet to be caught with a male prostitute, only high class honeys from Playboy and Hustler.

"You want me to fuck you and call you Sally I take it?" Steve asked with a grin as he moved away from the doorframe and walked over to Tony.

"Oh yeah, I said that last night… Fuck no I don't want that. I'm not a pathetic little bitch," Tony smirked as Steve placed his hands gently on his face, examining the transformation the billionaire made while in the bathroom.

"You know, you look like Kirk Lazarus right now," Steve chuckled as he gently stroked the blonde hair of the wig, admiring the high end quality of the fake hair.

"I swear I get that every time I wear this damn wig… At least he was a great character. 'Tropic Thunder' is one of my favorites. I actually fucked Robert Downey Jr. once when he was coked out of his mind. We were both at a party, he needed a fix, I had it and holy shit he rocked my world. God he pounded me into the floor… He had a fantastic cock too. Not near as perfect as yours but pretty fucking close," Tony purred as he palmed Steve through his jeans, feeling the prostitute's cock spring to life within seconds.

"If we're gonna do this again, let's go back to my place. Plus I want to get a few things from my apartment before we take off," Steve responded as he pulled away from Tony, waved his car keys in the genius' face and walked out the door.

"Wait for me, gorgeous!" the billionaire exclaimed as he packed the rest of his things in his bag, put on his shoes and rushed out the door after Steve, who was waiting in the driver's seat.

As Tony stepped in the car, he pressed a button on the dashboard. Before Steve could ask what it was, he was startled by a loud, British voice that came out of nowhere.

"Good evening, Master Stark. What song would you like me to play for you?" the unfamiliar voice asked in a monotone voice, and Steve looked all around the car, looking for a person, though he found none.

"Hello Jarvis. Steve, what's your favorite song? We'll listen to it on the way to your apartment, I don't care what it is," Tony waved his hand in indifference, and he was surprised by Steve's request.

When Steve pulled out of the parking lot, Tony heard the beat from "Iron Man" by Black Sabbath begin to play, but as he heard a man begin to rap, he knew it definitely wasn't what he expected. He was surprised that Steve listened to this odd, abrasive rap song, but Tony knew there was no reason to be shocked. He didn't know the man at all, and the classy, honorable gentleman that loved swing music was long gone and replaced by a man who lived a cheap life rife with illegal drugs and uncommitted sex.

"Have you lost your mind? Tell me when you think we crossed the line. No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need," he listened as Steve rapped along with the music, finding it to be a bit ironic.

This particular set of lyrics stuck in Tony's head; he was unsure if Steve was religious, but he couldn't imagine that he would be. With the life he lived, he had to have given up on the concept of a higher power long ago, and even though Tony wanted to ask him he knew it wasn't appropriate. From what he'd gathered, Steve didn't like fucking girls all that often, and drugs were the biggest part of his life. He wondered why he loved the song so much; it was dark, unsettling, and haunting, and Tony's whole body shivered as the song switched beats. It moved from angry and pounding to the sound of something clopping, and then it faded out as the rapper breathed heavily.

The song ended the moment they arrived at Steve's apartment, and he was deeply saddened by the deplorable state of the building. His project to save the Captain was to keep him away from places like this, and bringing him to a beautiful, expensive home was his goal. Then Steve could get clean, get an admirable job and live the perfect life he deserved.

Steve turned off the car, tossed Tony his keys and they stepped out of the car. Tony locked the doors and Steve gently took him by the hand and led him into the building. The walls were disgusting and caked with questionable splatters of bodily fluids, some of them appearing to be blood, others piss, and there were even streaks of was looked like shit all over the place. It was disgusting, and Tony wanted to vomit just at the sight.

_This is where THE Captain America's been living? Jesus Christ! Why didn't he just stay in New York, live a happy life and keep in touch with his war buddies? Steve, how did you let yourself get like this? I know you went off the deep end but fuck, this is beyond rock bottom! _the genius' inner voice screamed in horror and anger when he saw what kind of life Steve was living, and when they made it into the apartment he didn't feel much better.

"Yeah I know, it's not much, but it suits my needs. Rent's cheap and sometimes the nice meth addicted couple across the hall smokes weed with me," the prostitute tried to justify the perks of living in the dumpy apartment building, but there was nothing pleasant about it and the blonde knew it.

Steve motioned for Tony to sit down on the couch, and the two men plopped down, Tony resting his head comfortably in Steve's lap. He looked over onto the coffee table and saw all of the drug paraphernalia sitting on top. It sickened him, but he knew he wasn't one to talk; Tony simply watched in disappointment as Steve leaned over, put some coke on a mirror and snorted up a few lines.

He looked up at Steve's face, and watched as the blonde's pupils dilated and a euphoric, toothy smile grew on his face. Before Tony realized what was happening Steve grabbed him, slammed him up against the wall and kissed him on the lips. Blood was dripping out of Steve's nose and onto their mouths, and the taste was exhilarating to Tony.

As much as Tony hated to admit it to himself, he loved anything that involved pain, suffering and the possibility of death. He was a risk taker, had unprotected sex more times than he'd like to admit, and pissed off more than a few questionable businessmen, but drugs were never a behavior he desired to partake in. Tony liked where this was going, and as his back scratched against the wall he could feel some of the cuts reopening, causing him to groan in arousal and pain.

"What do you want Tony? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to fuck me? Do you want me to cut you again? Is there something else? I'll do anything you want, anything, just tell me," Steve's voice raced, and Tony clearly knew he wasn't in his right mind, but he didn't care; the brunet realized that this may be the only way he'd get to fulfill his twisted dark fantasy.

"Fuck me with your gun. Put it in my mouth and fuck me in the ass while you choke me. Just go get it, I know you have one," Tony growled against Steve's neck as he nipped at the blonde's flesh, hoping that Steve would give him what he wanted.

Tony fantasized about dying during sex all the time; he loved the possibility that a knife could cut too deep, someone could choke him for too long, or drown him during sex in the tub. The risk of being killed was a rush, and no one would ever give him what he needed. If Steve was able to cut him and play in his blood, then he was sure to be on board with this.

"You sure you want this? I'll do it if it's what you want but I don't know if it's a good idea. You want it?" Steve's heart raced even faster at Tony's request; he'd never been asked for something like this before, but since the genius was going to take him away from this shitty place he was willing to acquiesce.

"Yes, now fucking go get it!" Tony yelled, and Steve immediately let go of him and rushed into his bathroom.

He kept the gun in a box in the combination sink/cabinet, and as he pulled it out he wondered if it was loaded. Tony was continuing to yell and scream for him to fuck him, so he didn't bother to check. Instead, he rushed back into the room with Tony, who was lying on the ground, his pants tossed aside and his legs spread wide. His torso was lifted up so Steve would have access to his neck and mouth, and he gave Steve the most terrifying glare he'd ever seen in his life. Not even Fury was able to scare him the way Tony did in that moment.

_God, please don't let the gun be loaded. I don't want Tony to die… And God, please don't let my heart give out from this. I love you and I'm sorry. I'll try harder tomorrow. Amen, _Steve prayed to God internally before he set to work on Tony; even while high he still thought about his Creator all the time, and prayer was automatic, like breathing.

Steve got down on top of Tony's body, set the gun down to the side and spit in his hand. He slathered it on his dick, using it as a lube substitute, and pressed his cockhead against Tony's entrance. Before he shoved inside, he grabbed the gun, shoved the barrel in the older man's mouth and slammed hard into the billionaire's hole.

Tony moaned around the gun as Steve put his left hand on his throat and squeezed as hard as he could. Steve shoved the barrel of the small handgun in Tony's mouth until it was tickling his uvula. As the blonde pulled his dick out and thrust it back into Tony's red, angry hole, he forced the gun in and out of the brunet's mouth as if it was a cock. He would let go of his neck in small intervals, giving Tony enough time to take a few breaths before he cut off his oxygen supply again. Steve kept his hand on the trigger the entire time like he knew Tony wanted, but he was terrified that his finger would twitch and he's blow the billionaire's brains out.

As Steve pounded into Tony's ass, the pain became so intense that it drove him mad with desire. He was lightheaded from the denial of oxygen to his brain, his hard, throbbing cock rubbed against the floor with each of Steve's thrusts, and spit bubbled around the gun and flew out of his mouth. The roof of Tony's mouth was being rubbed by the sight of the gun with such intensity that it began to bleed, and little drops of blood flew out of his mouth. This was exactly what Tony wanted; to be completely used, terrified of what was to come, and unsure whether or not he'd be alive at the end of this. He'd never felt so empty, yet alive at the same time. Steve was perfect, and now he wanted to keep him as his and his alone.

Tony came hard when Steve 's cock hit his prostrate in one hard, painful thrust, sending his cum all over the floor and his belly. As pleasurable as his orgasm felt, it hurt at the same time; his dick was rubbed almost raw by the friction against the thin, ugly blue carpet. He knew it was more than likely bleeding, and the thought only made his release all the more intense. He loved pain, loved this nightmare, and loved the blood. Suffering was the way to repent for all of the wrongs he'd done to prostitutes like Steve, and he deserved all of the pain the blonde could dish out.

He felt Steve's semen rush out of his dick and inside of his body at the same time that he came, and the sensation was incredible. As Steve came, he choked Tony so tight that the billionaire thought he'd die right then and there. He fantasized about death, the possibility that he'd go to a potential Hell and live his life being tortured at the hands of demons.

When Steve accidentally pulled the trigger, nothing happened; Tony had prepared for this moment and the potential release from a bitter shell of a life, and was a bit disappointed that no bullet went through his mouth and out the back of his head. Hell, if it would have killed Steve too he would have been happy; then he'd never have to suffer again, and they could die together.

But all of the thoughts disappeared the moment Steve removed the gun from Tony's mouth, took his hand from his throat and pulled his cock out of the brunet's gaping, cummy asshole. Steve's high was gone when he finished, and when he looked down at the man underneath him he was horrified. He slowly picked up Tony and sat him back down on the couch on his side.

Tony's mouth was dripping blood, his throat had deep, purple bruises in the shape of Steve's hand on it, and the underside of the brunet's dick was scratched up from the carpet and tiny beads of blood were in the scratches. As awful as the scene was, Tony looked thoroughly satisfied, and it made Steve feel not so awful about what he'd done. He did give Tony what he wanted, after all, and that was part of his job description; to please, please, please!

"Steve… Were there any bullets in the gun?" Tony asked as he wiped up blood from his mouth, and looked down in appreciation when he saw a stripe of blood on the back of his hand.

He opened the gun, looked inside and saw that there were none. Steve showed it to Tony, and he sighed in disappointment. While Steve still fulfilled his needs and Tony looked like a complete and utter train wreck, he still wished that he could have died.

"I'm sorry, Tony, are you okay? I was way too rough and I didn't mean to hurt you this way… I'm awful," Steve apologized over and over again as he got behind Tony and cradled him in his arms, trying to make himself feel a little better about what he'd just done.

"Never been better, Steve," Tony slowly turned over so he was facing Steve and kissed him tenderly, his blood staining both he and the prostitute's lips.

_God, thank you so much for keeping Tony alive. I thank you for making me forget to buy bullets, I thank you for keeping him safe while I was high, and I thank you for keeping my heart steady. I am truly blessed that you listen to me. I'll kick this addiction for you, God. I promise. Amen, _Steve prayed as his tongue tangled with Tony's, and he wondered why he cared so much about this masochistic, self-loathing, and deeply troubled stranger.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tony, let me see the inside of your mouth," Steve pulled away from Tony's mouth and carefully lifted the billionaire's chin, taking care not to hurt his neck.

Steve didn't want to stop kissing Tony; his mouth fit perfectly with his, his lips were soft, and the added taste of the blood stirred something inside of Steve that terrified him. Rarely did he enjoy having clients who wanted to be roughed up; it always made him feel guilty when the deed was done, and sometimes the acts would give him nightmares. Steve didn't like to hurt people, but he'd killed a lot of men and had so much forced, pain-inducing sex over the years that he felt for the most part dead inside.

Performing these brutal acts on Tony had the complete opposite effect, however; it made him feel invigorated and alive for the first time in decades. Seeing the pleasure that his deceased friend's son got from being slashed up, threatened with death, and choked gave him a sense of usefulness and accomplishment. It was as if Tony was a piece of artwork that he could mold and shape the way he desired with just the head of his cock or a knife against the brunet's throat. That fact alone was enough to rejuvenate him, and for the first time in his life he knew he had the upper hand. Steve could be as sweet or as vicious as he wanted, and he realized that Tony would take anything that the blonde was willing to give.

In that moment he felt like being kind and caring, as he didn't want to risk Tony getting an infection or dying from potential blood loss due to his gun sight-induced injury. The bleeding wasn't stopping, and it was splashing into Steve's mouth with each movement of their tongues.

"Nah, it's fine Steve. Bring your lips back over here, I want them," Tony rasped out as he moved back to Steve's lips, but the blonde swiftly moved his head back, denying the genius his demand.

Steve slowly opened Tony's mouth and was a bit disgusted by what he saw; there was a line in the middle of the roof of his mouth that was dripping blood. It was wide enough to where Steve knew Tony needed stitches, and it disturbed him that the brunet didn't even care. He wondered if Tony even cared about his own life anymore, but he didn't bother to ask. Prostitutes didn't have a right to ask questions, as they were in the bottom barrel of society and weren't taken seriously by the vast majority.

His curiosity had to take a backseat for now, however, and he immediately pulled his cheap cellphone out of his pocket. As he dialed a phone number, Tony tried to take the phone away. Steve got up off of the couch and went into the bathroom so the brunet would leave him alone. While he waited for the person on the other line to pick up, he listened to Tony's whining in the other room.

"Steve, you really don't need to call anyone! I'm fine! Actually I'm more than fine, I feel fucking incredible. It's just a little cut, it'll heal and everything will work itself out! No need to worry… Who are you calling? Don't tell me you're calling an ambulance or something. God if they find out that THE Tony Stark is in this part of Los Angeles...

"Shit, my business will be ruined! They'll find out about… All of this and not to mention the hundreds of whores I've fucked here over the years. When they find out that the trick they've been servicing is me, every last one will step forward, gain their claim to fame, and completely fuck me over. Everyone's going to know what a fucking piece of huge, bloody piece of shit I am and my empire, all of my creations, my clean energy bit… All gone. In a flash I'll be nothing.

"Should have seen it coming though. I've been doing this for so long that I was bound to get found out. I'm absolutely ruined, and it's all because I wanted a gun in my mouth. Jesus Christ! Steve, please put the phone down! Don't call someone to take me away for stitches, please! I don't want people to know about all of this! Dammit, answer me Steve!" Tony banged on the bathroom door, whining quietly in his hoarse voice as blood gurgled out of his mouth.

His blood was dripping down his chin onto his sweatshirt, staining it with the red fluid. Some of it flew out and painted the door with little splatters of red, which Tony immediately wiped away the moment he saw it. He looked down at the smear of blood on his hand, smiled that little smirk that rarely left his face, and wiped it on his cheeks, even though it hurt for him to move any part of his head. The sight of blood completely took his mind off of the hysteria he felt from Steve leaving the room so abruptly, and he slowly lay down on his back, letting the trickles of blood hit the back of his throat.

He imagined it making a splashing noise, and the thought of it make his dick grow hard again. Tony placed his finger in his mouth, ran his finger carefully across the wound and smiled briefly before he put his bloody fingers on his cock. The billionaire stroked himself at a slow, steady pace, feeling the searing pain of his hands rubbing on the rug burns and scratches on the underside of his member. The small amount of blood that Tony had on his fingers dried on the head of his member, and he came with a cough, blowing his load on the center pocket at the bottom of his sweatshirt.

Steve ignored Tony's ramblings and coughing noises as he talked to a woman on the other line. He knew that she'd be able to help them without asking too many questions, and the blonde breathed a sigh of relief when she agreed to meet them at her office in fifteen minutes.

When Steve came out of the bathroom, he found Tony lying on the floor, smiling to himself and looking absolutely drugged. He noticed the fresh beads of cum on Tony's bloody sweatshirt, and he shook his head at the sight. Tony really was fucked up, but he loved it all the same. Steve saw beauty in the sight, but he wasn't sure why. Seeing a man so broken and battered elicited a response from his own cock, though he quickly pushed his newfound desires from his head with images of Loki's minions shanked in the street near the motel, a sight that haunted his dreams.

"Tony, let's get you back into your jeans. I have an old shirt of mine you can wear that's not covered in blood and semen. Now I'm going pick you up in three, two, one…" Steve cradled Tony's almost corpse-like body, taking him over to his uncomfortable mattress.

Steve grabbed Tony's faded jeans and slowly slipped them onto the brunet's body, taking care not to cause any further damage. The cuts on his hips were still there, and he didn't want to open up the scabbed over wounds. After he got Tony's jeans on, he lifted up his ex-john's arms, gingerly pulled off the sweatshirt and sifted through a pile of clothes to find a shirt that was at least somewhat clean. He found a black t-shirt, carefully put it on Tony and admired the way it hung a little loosely from his body. Steve felt like he owned Tony while he wore that shirt, and it gave the blonde a sense of pride and power.

"Tony, we're going to see a doctor. She works underground during the night, helping prostitutes and tricks that get injured. They call her the Black Widow, because when a prostitute or a trick is so messed up that they're going to die, she injects them with some kind of poison and they pass away. She's always dressed in black, and I'll admit I think her clothes are a little tighter than necessary but she has to pretend that she's a prostitute at night so the doctors she works with at the hospital across town don't find out.

"You know, you really don't need to worry about your reputation being ruined; you don't look anything like Tony Stark right now, and she's not going to tell on you. We're not in grade school anymore, and look what side of town we're on! If you rat someone out on these streets you're gonna get killed, Tony. I've seen it so many times it's not even a shock anymore.

"When Fury died, word got around because a few of Loki's goons couldn't keep their mouths shut. When Fury's gang found out about their boss' reputation being shredded like that, they murdered about twenty of 'em. So trust me on this, I'm not going to lie to you," the prostitute assured Tony as he helped him up off of the bed and out the door.

_Why won't you just let me bleed out, Steve? This is what I want… You're a prostitute! Why in the fuck do you even care what happens to me? That fuck should have put bullets in that gun, I'd be better off if this was all over. He's being selfish for keeping me alive. All he wants is my money anyway, just like all the others. But I don't want to stop him… Steve can do whatever he wants to me. If being compliant makes him love me I guess it's worth it. What the fuck? He's not going to love me, and I don't love him… God dammit,_ Tony's inner voice was a complete mess; he didn't know how he really felt about this situation, and he sure as hell didn't want to fall in love with a whore of all people.

He tried to remember his tried and true belief that prostitutes were things, not people. They didn't have anything left in them, and if souls existed they more or less didn't have them. Whores were only good for sex and nothing else, and they didn't deserve to be cared about. They gave Tony pleasure and that was it; nothing more, nothing less. But now that he was faced with one that seemed to care at least on a mild level but still gave him the abuse he craved, his brain was foggy with confusion. Tony wanted all of Steve; he wanted him to take care of him, he wanted to be at the blonde's every beck and call, and Tony wanted Steve to initiate the pain and suffering on his own free will. He needed this, needed Steve, needed everything that the downtrodden Captain could offer, and he'd milk it for all it was worth.

"Alright, now we're at your car, Tony. I know you're kind of woozy from blood loss, but you need to stay with it. We'll be there before you know it, I promise. You didn't lose too much blood, but it's still a lot. I'm going to put you in carefully, so just relax," Steve said in a soothing tone as he picked Tony up as if they were newlyweds, bent down and put the brunet into the passenger's seat as delicately as possible.

He buckled Tony up, gave him a kiss on his bloody mouth thoughtlessly before he closed the door and got into the passenger seat. When he put the keys in the ignition, turned the car on and drove, Steve glanced over at Tony. The billionaire looked confused and angry with himself, and Steve wasn't sure why. Since they'd met he hadn't seen that look on Tony's face before, and he wondered what it meant. He was worried that the expression on the brunet's face was because he didn't know where he was, or he was angry with the prostitute for getting him help for a wound that he deemed to be superficial in nature. Maybe it was because Tony was terrified that someone would find out that he was in a bad neighborhood screwing anything that would take his bills. He wasn't sure, but Steve felt the need to pray for the puzzled man resting his eyes next to him.

"God, please make sure that Dr. Romanov is able to help Tony. Keep him awake and don't let him vomit from the blood he swallowed. I know it's a lot to ask and it's all my fault that he's hurting, but please don't let him suffer anymore because of me. Thank you for listening. Amen," Steve mumbled quietly to himself, not realizing that he had said his prayer aloud.

"So you are a religious man. Never would have thought I'd see the day that a prostitute had any hope left. Most of the ones I've met denounced God the moment they started hooking. They finally saw the world as the shithole that it is, but you've held on. Why? There's no reason to. God's never helped me, and I don't know why you think he'd help you, if He does exist anyway. I'm more of an agnostic myself; I can't prove it or disprove it so I just say 'fuck it' and stop thinking about it. But anyway, enough about me, why do you even bother to pray when your situation is so shitty? I'd quit if I were you," Tony advised in a raspy voice as he stared at Steve with a look of curiosity on his face.

"Because, if I didn't believe in God I'd probably be dead right now. You may think it's crazy, Tony, but God listens to me. He's answered my prayers more times than I can count, and I love Him for it. I can't just abandon the Man that has kept me safe all these years. Praying gives me hope, and He believes in me when no one else does. No one's cared about me since Fury, but God will always love me no matter how much I mess up. He gave me my life and I have to be thankful for each day that I wake up," the blonde answered sincerely as a tear rolled down his cheek; Steve truly loved God and appreciated Him more than anyone.

"That doesn't make any sense at all and you know it. If God gave you this life, then He's a total asshole. Come on, look at you! You're miserable, you're hooked on heroin, coke, and weed, and you're a prostitute! Steve, you give your body to people who don't love you and don't care about you! If God exists, He's given you a shitty set of cards and I'd think that He would let you have the best life if He existed. You're a good person, and you didn't need this shit. You're Captain America and God should have given you the best life if He's real for fuck's sake!" Tony raised his voice in anger, taking on a croaky quality due to the choking that occurred not long ago.

"Tony, this is one thing that you don't want to get into with me. Just because you don't know that there is a God or not doesn't mean that I feel the same. God does exist, and He has listened to my prayers when I really needed Him! Look, He can't make our lives perfect; we make our own beds and we have to lay in them. I did this to myself; I didn't have to do drugs, I didn't have to act cold and emotionless, and I didn't have to turn tricks for a living. I could have stayed a righteous path, but the war just… It doesn't matter what it did. Don't question my faith, Tony. He's the only one I have left, and without Him I have no idea what I'd do," Steve kept his voice calm and even, though he wanted to grab Tony and slam him against the wall for the negative things he'd said.

Steve absolutely hated when people criticized him for his belief in God. It was one of the biggest parts of his life, and much to many tricks' surprise he went to church most Sundays, unless he was high. He never went to church hopped up on drugs out of respect, but he normally tried to sober up before he went. Steve's whole ability to get through the meaningless sex he had virtually every day was because he thought about God; the blonde thought about the way He watched over him and made sure that everything went smoothly for the most part. The prostitute truly believed that God was the one that allowed him to do drugs but not overdose, kept him from getting shot to death by Loki's thugs, and prevented him from buying bullets for his handgun. Steve didn't feel like he was worthy of God's love anymore, but he desperately wanted to change and he only saw it through Tony.

He wondered if God sent him Tony for a reason. Steve couldn't imagine any other reason why he'd meet Howard's son, especially in such a deplorable way. This certainly wasn't an appropriate way to live, and since the billionaire promised to whisk him away from this terrible situation he wondered if He was looking out for him. While Tony had his issues and was by no means a saint, he was deep down a good man and wanted to help Steve. He believed that God brought them together so they could save each other and change directions and walk the right path. As he looked over to the injured man next to him, Steve felt a glimmer of hope in his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to hold Tony in his arms and soothe him.

When they pulled into the parking next to an apartment complex, Tony opened his eyes and looked around. The building was condemned, all of the windows were boarded up, and the air reeked of cat piss and rotten eggs, and he began to gag in disgust. He'd never smelled such a disgusting combination of odors, and Tony had absolutely no idea what it could be. All he knew is that it was coming from the dilapidated building. He covered up his nose and mouth with Steve's shirt, and the blonde looked over at him and chuckled.

"There's a meth lab in the basement and they open the small windows that are ground level when they're making it. That's what you're smelling… I'm surprised you've never smelled it before! Dr. Romanov's office is on the fifth floor and the smell doesn't reach up that far, so you'll be alright. She'll have your mouth patched up in no time!" Steve attempted to sound cheerful to hide his irritation with Tony, but he ended up sounding sarcastic instead.

"Don't mock me, Steve. So what if I haven't smelled meth before, it's not a big deal. Actually it's a good thing, because I've never seen anyone do it. I don't have sensitive sensibilities, so don't act like I can't handle this disgusting smell. And for God's sake I don't need patching up! My mouth is going to be fine, but if you're so hell bent on me getting it stitched up I'll do it…" Tony huffed as he got out of the car, slammed the door shut and stormed into the building.

_You are sensitive, Tony. Why am I even helping you… But you look so good when you're ups- No. No, Steve. Don't think about Tony like that. He's here on God's will, not for you to care about. You're just helping each other, _Steve thought to himself as he rushed into the building after the brunet.

Steve caught up to Tony and led him up the rickety, rotting stairs to the fifth floor, and the genius was immediately on edge. He didn't see how a doctor could possibly work in these circumstances. Everything had to be unsanitary, and Tony was less concerned about the gash in his mouth than he was with the potential infection he'd get from the stitches. The building reeked of mold and mildew, and the air was moist and humid. It had an aroma of sweaty, grungy socks, and it assaulted his nose and eyes. Tony felt a little bit of the blood that he'd swallowed rise up in his throat, but he swallowed it back. The last thing he wanted to do was show Steve that he couldn't handle the stench; it would make him feel weak, and Tony felt that he'd more than proved just how tough he was. He didn't want to Steve to think he was a pussy just because there was a putrid scent in the air that made him feel ill.

When they finally reached the fifth floor, the smell was replaced with that of a floral Febreze spray, and it helped calm his stomach. Tony took a long, deep breath, and he didn't realize how long he'd been holding his breath. Steve whispered in Tony's ear that he needed to take some deep breaths, because what was to come wouldn't be pleasant.

Tony took in the surroundings around him: it was a large room with black wallpaper and a clean wood floor, and on the right hand side of the room were seven grey cabinets filled with medical supplies. An industrial sink was combined with the cabinet on the far left, and Tony shuddered a little when he saw blood splattered on the floor by the sink. In the middle of the room was a small, rickety dentist's chair with brown cushions, and Tony wondered how old it was. There was no way this room could be thoroughly sanitized no matter how pleasant it smelled, and he thought about how many johns and whores died at the Black Widow's hands.

"Hello Grant. Long time no see. Last time I saw you was when the gang leader was shot to death, correct?" Dr. Romanov asked as she walked over, opened Tony's mouth and inspected it with a flashlight.

Tony was taken aback by her beauty; he assumed she would be a middle aged woman going through a mid-life crisis, but he was glad he was wrong. She wore a skintight black halter top, a black mini skirt that came up to mid-thigh, and a pair of fishnet stockings with neon purple pumps. The doctor was wearing a cheap shoulder length curled wig, and it was a dingy, dirty orange color. He thought about buying her a brand new hairpiece, but the thought escaped his mind when she let go of his mouth and dragged him over to a dentist's chair in the middle of the room.

"This cut's pretty deep… Looks like it's from the sight of a gun. Got a kink for that sort of thing I see. Grant I didn't think that you'd go this far to please someone, but then again nothing surprises me anymore. I've seen it all," the doctor stated with a shrug of her shoulders as she opened up one of the cabinets, taking out a pair of gloves, a small bottle and a pre-packaged needle.

She washed her hands thoroughly with soap and water, snapped on her gloves and grabbed the small bottle. The doctor walked over to Tony, handled it to him and ordered him to drink. It was in the shape of a mini beer bottle, but it had no label. He had no idea what it was, but he imagined it wasn't going to taste pleasant. When he downed the liquid, it burned the gash inside of his mouth, along with the back of his throat. Tony immediately realized that it was cheap vodka, and he looked at Dr. Romanov; the billionaire didn't know if he was comfortable having her take care of him now that all she'd given him was alcohol.

"That's all I have to help ease the pain and clean the wound in your mouth. I have no anesthesia, so you're going to have to deal with the pain. Keep your mouth open wide for me, and don't flinch. If you do I may place the stiches too deep, and it will only serve to make the experience all the more unpleasant," Dr. Romanov walked over to the counter, grabbed the packaged needle and opened it.

The small needle already contained the material she would use to stitch the wound shut, and she admired it for a brief moment before grabbing a pair of forceps from a container of cleansing solution in a cylindrical container in the sink.

"Don't worry, the solution's non-toxic. If some gets in your mouth you're not going to die. Brace yourself, this is going to be very painful," she warned as she gripped the needle with the forceps and began to guide the needle into the flesh in the roof of his mouth.

Steve watched from the corner of the room as Tony underwent the procedure; he was white knuckling the armrests of the chair and he saw a tear fall from the corner of his eye and onto the floor. He felt ashamed that he'd inflicted such pain on Tony, even though that's what he wanted. It didn't bother him so much that the billionaire had asked for it; rather he felt guilt that he enjoyed treating him so violently. Steve loved watching Tony suffer, repent for his sins in such a sadistic, twisted way, and knowing that he finally had control over someone in his life aroused him. His cock began to harden as he observed Tony's body language, noticing the flexing of his fingers, the upward rise of his feet, and the wild, angry glare he gave to Dr. Romanov.

He walked down the stairs to the fourth floor, which had a dilapidated, unusable bathroom in the corner. Steve rushed over to the restroom, closed the door and locked himself inside. Steve unzipped his pants, allowing his dick to spring free, and he began to pump his erection hard and fast. He imagined all of the blood gushing from Tony's mouth, the way his tongue felt on the wound the sight made, and the way the blood stained his teeth. He longed to taste it again, to watch Tony thrash underneath him, desperate for breath, and to abuse the brunet's asshole with his massive dick. Steve wanted to slice up Tony's skin again and play in the blood, licking it up with his fingers and smearing it all over the billionaire's scarred chest.

Tony was a pathetic, whore-loving piece of shit, Steve knew that. But he couldn't help but feel that there was more between them than money and a decent place to live. Steve thought about the tender kisses, the way Tony held him when he was vomiting because of the bad heroin, and the complete and utter trust the billionaire had in him when he face fucked him with a gun. He knew that Tony would submit to any demand, and as Steve imagined beating the genius senseless with his fists as he plowed wildly into him, he felt his orgasm build up inside of him.

"What are you doing to me, Tony?" Steve gasped out as he came, his cum spurting out of his slit and into the broken porcelain toilet.

_God, I'm sorry for having these impure thoughts. I know that these desires are temptations may be from the Devil, but I can't help myself. I want this- No, I need this, God. I've never been in control before, and I need someone who can't live without me. God, I don't know if you sent him to me as a gift for believing in you for all of these years, but in my heart I feel that this is Your doing. I pray that this isn't Satan breaking me down, but I have to believe it's You. _

_God, you've been good to me, and I go to church, sing praise for you, and think about you before I go to sleep. I thank you each morning I wake up, and I thank you each night that I sleep in a bed and not the streets. So please, please God. If this is the work of the Devil, ward him off. I love you, and I only want you to forgive me for my sins. I pray to you, and I'm truly blessed for your presence in my life. Without you, my life would be meaningless. Amen, _Steve prayed as he stared at himself in the broken mirror above the sink.

Steve felt an overwhelming amount of shame and embarrassment that he masturbated to thoughts of Tony's bashed up and battered body, and he began to fear that it was the Devil trying to overtake him. He refused to believe it though; God would never allow his life to be overtaken by the dark spirits, no matter how low he was. Tony was a blessing, not a curse, and Steve had to enjoy the brunet's company and sexual needs as long as He permitted it.

He wiped his brow, straightened up his pants, and walked back up to the fifth floor, where Natasha was disposing of her gloves and Tony was holding his mouth in pain. Steve couldn't help but smirk at the sight; the billionaire loved having his ass kicked in the bedroom, yet sitting in the dentist's chair caused him considerable pain. The prostitute didn't quite understand why a healthcare professional bothered Tony so much, yet risking his life during sexual intercourse turned him on. Maybe one day Steve would figure it out, but for now he needed to focus on taking care of Tony.

"So, what got you in the business of helping whores and guys like me who need a quick fuck? Don't you think we're the scum of the earth or something, seeing that you have to deal with injuries like this all the time? If I were you I'd probably pump us full of drugs and kill us all… Clean up the streets and be a hero and all that good stuff. Hell maybe you'd get an award and be like Dr. Kevorkian, except people would like you because you're getting rid of the people society hates. You ever think about that?" Tony rambled quietly, barely opening his mouth because of the pain.

"No, I would never think of doing something like that Harry. I've done a lot in my life, and I want to wipe all of the red off my ledger. Helping people like Grant and you is just part of making up for the wrongs in my life. Now let's get back to business. You are not to use a straw or eat solid foods until tomorrow; I don't want the dissolvable stitches to get ripped out. Brush your teeth carefully, and don't use your mouth for anything sexual until the stitches dissolve. Lucky you I was able to get the material that heals the tissue in your mouth in a day; if I didn't you'd be looking at a week. Next time be careful during gun play; saw off the sight and smooth it out, then you can enjoy it more. Take care of him, Grant," Dr. Romanov directed as she helped Tony off of the dentist's chair and over to Steve.

"Will do. Thank you ma'am," Steve nodded in appreciation as he shook her hand, eliciting a small smile from the doctor in response.

Steve grabbed Tony by the hand and helped him down the steps, gripping his palm tight in case one of the steps fell apart beneath their feet. Tony loved the way Steve gripped his hand a little too tight and the rough callouses that peppered the top of his palm. The billionaire touched his neck fondly as he remembered the way the blonde's hand felt wrapped around his throat, and even though the doctor advised him to refrain of intense sexual activity Tony chose to ignore it.

"We'll go to the corner store and I'll get us something to eat. I know you can only eat liquids, so I'll check and see if they have those instant breakfast powders and I'll buy some milk to go with it. I'm sorry I made you get stitches, Tony. It didn't look pleasant and I hope it didn't hurt too much," Steve apologized when they got into the car, but Tony watched suspiciously as the blonde licked his lips and looked him up and down.

"Yeah, yeah. Stop apologizing and drive. I'm fucking hungry," Tony whined, dismissing Steve's apology with a flip of his wrist.

_Bullshit you're sorry, Steve. Your dick got hard the moment you mentioned it…. I'm going to give you everything your sadistic heart needs. Handcuffs, whips, knives, the gates of hell… Anything you need you'll get, princess. Just wait and see, _the billionaire grinned as they pulled out of the parking lot and Rick Ross' voice filled the car.

"Want to come into the store, Harry? If that is your real name…" Steve winked at Tony; he was surprised to hear Dr. Romanov call him that, but he realized that when the genius took on a new persona he changed his name, just like the blonde did.

"Hey, it's nothing like Tony and who's going to think a guy named Harry is the top business mogul in the world? The name's so old school, and come to think of it I don't even know anyone named Harry. Well except me of course. Now go get some food or I'll rip out my sutures," Tony gave Steve a quick peck on his cheek before the blonde got out of the car to go into the store.

Tony grinned as he saw Steve's telltale erection, and he wasn't sure what he'd want the prostitute to do to him tonight but he knew he'd get his way. Now that he'd discovered that Steve was secretly a sadist, the possibilities were endless. If by the end of whatever was going on between them Tony could get his ultimate fantasy met, then maybe he'd believe in God the way Steve did.

"They only had chocolate, so I hope you like that. Sorry if this isn't your favorite, but they only had whole milk. That's what people really like around here, and you seem more like the skim kind of guy. But it's better than nothing… And we need to make a quick stop before we go back to my apartment," Steve said nonchalantly as he set the paper bag of food in Tony's lap; it contained a can of soup, milk, and a box of instant breakfast.

"I love chocolate but I'm not too fond of whole milk… My ass always feels like it's gonna explode if I drink too much of it. What are we getting? I assume we're getting you another fix- No wait, scratch that. I know that's what we're doing. It better not be heroin, because I do not want to deal with you puking again," the brunet sighed as he thought back to the afternoon, when he cradled Steve and comforted him as he projectile vomited.

"No, it's not heroin. I can't get the good stuff around here anyway. I want to enjoy this last night here before we go to Malibu… Now I'm not going to tell you what it is, but I want you to do it with me. If I'm going to live with you then I want you to try this once, and I promise that I'll kick my habit," Steve held out his pinky out, which Tony wrapped around his own pinky, making a promise.

"Alright, fine. I will, but you better keep your promise or so help me your hypothetical God I'm going to be pissed…" Tony glared at Steve as the words escaped his barely parted lips.

Steve nodded his head yes, and he put the keys in the ignition and drove them to an alleyway only a block from his rundown apartment complex. He assured Tony that he'd be fine by pulling out his switchblade, flipping it open and holding it close to his ex-john's face. Tony brought his face to the blade and slid his right cheek along the sharp blade, allowing it to slice open his skin in a nice, straight line. Steve licked his lips as he saw the blood slowly ooze down the brunet's face, and he slowly closed the blade, put it back in his pocket and leaned over the middle compartment of Tony's old car.

He licked up the blood that bubbled up from the cut and moaned as he did so, causing Tony's breath to catch in his throat. His suspicions that Steve enjoyed maiming him were correct, and before he could take things to another level the blonde pulled away, kissing him gently on the lips before he rushed out of the car to get the mystery drug. Tony sighed in disappointment as he touched his cheek, ran his fingers gingerly through the blood and licked it off of his fingers, his red fluid giving him a euphoric feeling deep inside.

"It'll last four hours minimum, and it's going to cost you ten bucks. Do you have enough money this time, Grant?" the dealer asked as he pulled out a small envelope from his dress shirt pocket and waved it in Steve's face.

"Coulson, here's your money. Now just give them to me; my trick's waiting and he's impatient. Come on I don't have all night," Steve demanded, snatching the little envelope and slipping a ten into Coulson's pocket.

Steve shook the dealer's hand, put the envelope in his jacket and jogged back to the car, giving Tony a smile that made his heart skip a beat. He knew he'd never grow tired of that smile, and Tony was looking forward to seeing it every day of his life. Even though Tony knew that it was more than likely because Steve was excited about getting high, he hoped to himself that he had that effect on the prostitute as well.

The blonde smiled the entire time; while they were in the car, when they walked up the stairs, and when they finally made it up to his pathetic little apartment. Steve pushed Tony over to the couch, forced him down on it and he sat on the other end. Tony saw the excitement in Steve's eyes, and he knew that whatever drug they'd be doing was one of the blonde's favorites. He carefully pulled the envelope from his jacket and opened it up, revealing two small square tabs. Steve moved Tony's left palm right-side up, and he placed the tab into the brunet's hand.

"Okay, so I don't know if you know what this is or not but it's called AJK. Our trips should last at least four hours, but yours will probably be longer. As long as you stay calm this will be a lot of fun. Plus, sex on it is amazing, I promise…" Steve smirked before opening his mouth and setting the tab on his tongue.

_Fuck fuck fuck! Why in the fuck can't I say no to you? I don't want to do this… Shit this lasts that long? I don't even know what AJK is. It must be a new drug…But if it makes Steve happy I'll do it… And he did promise good sex. I hope that this goes smoothly, _Tony's inner voice reasoned before he carefully placed the tab on his tongue, hoping that his high would be brief.

"Now let's pray before the drugs kick in, Tony," Steve grinned as he took Tony's hands in his and began to speak, preventing the genius from getting a word in edgewise.

"Dear God, I pray for a good and safe high. We love you, and tomorrow I am going to be sober, I promise. Amen," the blonde ended the prayer, and Tony felt offended; he didn't know if he believed in God, and he certainly didn't appreciate Steve's addition of his name into the mix.

They removed their clothes and cuddled as they waited for the drug to take effect. Steve wanted to make sure that Tony was in a good place before the drugs kicked in. An hour later, the effects began to kick in. Tony began to feel numb, and he felt as it time was standing still. Steve's body was covered in sweat, and the brunet couldn't help but lick it up. He could no longer feel his mouth, so Tony was able to lick at his chest with ease. Steve's skin was hot and his heart was racing, but the brunet couldn't feel it.

"Mmm… Tony, your mouth feels amazing. You know what would be fun? If we had sex in the kitchen right on the counter. It's the perfect place," Steve decided this before he'd even mentioned it, and he got up, cradled Tony in his arms and began to walk to the kitchen.

He was dizzy, however, and the two men went crashing down to the floor, Steve landing on top of Tony. The blonde looked down at the smaller man, and he loved the way Tony's face looked. His eyes were half-open, he was grinning in contentment and his cheeks were flush with warmth. Steve kissed him tenderly before getting back up, and when he scanned Tony's body he noticed a bright red aura radiating from his body.

As Tony slowly got up off of the ground, the aura continued to glow brighter. He watched as the brunet's movements became as slow as a turtle's, and with each step the burning bright glow would flare up, encasing the entire room in sharp points of color. His skin felt like it was on fire when Tony touched him, and when he looked down his whole body was covered in flames. Steve patted on his skin in an attempt to wipe away the flames, but it only made them burn brighter.

Tony's hands began to tingle as he interlocked his fingers with Steve's, and when he looked down at the prostitute's cock it looked like a rattlesnake. He could hear it rattle and hiss, and when he touched it some its venom came out of its mouth. The snake didn't bite him, much to his delight, and he continued to stroke it. It felt smooth and slick, and he admired the way it bobbed up and down to his touch.

"Tony, my skin's burning… Did you ever just wonder how much it would hurt to be burned alive? When people said it hurt they were wrong, it feels itchy," Steve rambled as he looked at his skin, which was melting off like bits of liquefied wax off a candle.

As he continued to pet the snake, he heard Steve begin to moan. When he looked up at the taller man, he saw blue, green, and purple moths fly out of his mouth. He let go of the snake and skipped around the room, trying to catch the small moths in his hands. The purple ones sounded like a bite from a crisp apple, the blue ones like crumpling tin foil, and the green like a purring kitten. Tony loved the green ones; he jumped up to try and reach them, but every time he got close they slipped out of his sweaty hands.

Steve got on the ground and rolled around, sluggishly moving his arms and legs. The floor became like lava, and soon he was swimming in it. He was floating on top of the hot, bubbling molten substance, and he laughed as his skin dripped away, leaving nothing but his muscles intact. Steve lifted up his hands and admired the striations in his tissue. He licked at his sticky, meaty arms, and they whispered sweet nothings into his ear.

As Tony was prancing around, he tripped over Steve's writhing body, causing him to slam hard against the bathroom door, busting it open. He landed hard on the linoleum, busting his lip open, causing miniature G.I Joes to run out of the wound. They were yelling out names of all of the Playboy bunnies he'd slept with, and he giggled as each name was announced.

When the last few army men hopped out of his lip and ran up the ceiling, Tony got up and looked at his arms; they were covered in thick brown hair, and it was matted. There were small grubs nibbling on the split ends, and he began to feel nauseous from the sight. He could feel them digging into his fur and the flesh hidden underneath, and he jumped into the bathtub and turned the water on, watching as the clear liquid filled the tub.

Tony watched in relief as the hair sloughed off his body and crawled out of the shower, leaving his skin silky smooth and a bright shade of pink. The water tickled his skin, and as he stared at the water pouring down the faucet it began to speak to him, telling him to call for the burning man in the other room.

"Guy on fire… Come into the bathroom, the thing that water comes out of wants to talk to you. Don't keep it waiting, or it might get mad!" Tony began to laugh as the water crept up in his skin, wrapping its wet, slippery arms around him.

Steve heard the voice of what appeared to be a chipmunk squeaking for him coming from the bathroom, so he crawled to see inside. He was blinded by a bright white light the moment his arms crossed the barrier between the two rooms. The light began to break up into small fragments and they shot at him like rockets. Steve felt his eyeballs pop out of his head, and he began to scream at the top of his lungs in terror.

He gripped the doorframe, pulled himself up and ran wildly to the bathtub, trying to get away from the light, which had taken on the shape of bloody arrows.

"Steve, is that you? Why do you look so scared, everything's fine. The water's telling me all about what life means… Did you know that our brains are moldy like cheese? I can see yours right now, Steve! When did you unzip your head, your brain mold might escape!" Tony warned as he rushed out of the tub and grabbed Steve by the hair, stopping the blonde dead in his tracks.

When he looked down at the Tony, he didn't see him; instead he saw a rust red demon staring up at him. It had one large, bloodshot eye, a large mouth with long, yellow teeth that curved outward like sharp meat hooks, and its red skin was bumpy like a toad's flesh. The demon's cock was made up of long, winding tentacles, and they wrapped themselves around Steve's face, using their suction cups to keep him in place.

He was terrified; Steve had never seen anything so horrific in his life, and he heard God say in his ear that in order to defeat it he had to fuck it in the water and drown it. He said a quick prayer of thanks before he grabbed the demon by its rough flesh and threw it down into the bathtub, the creature landing on its back, sending water everywhere.

"Steve… We should have sex in here, there are so many pretty rainbows around us, do you see them?" Tony grinned from ear to ear as he beckoned for Steve, not realizing that the blonde was having a bad trip.

Steve jumped into the tub, spread the demon's legs apart and slammed his cock deep inside of it, causing it to let out a blood curdling scream. He laughed as he pounded into it, watching blood mix in with the swirling yellow, orange, and red flames that engulfed them. Steve was going to kill it, just like God ordered.

As Steve fucked into him, Tony jerked back into consciousness. The high wore off, and he was shocked to see the blonde on top of him, gritting his teeth and speaking in tongues. Tony could feel his asshole being forced open and water from the overflowing bathtub being forced in and out of his hole as Steve pulled out and slammed himself back in. He was terrified by how wild Steve had become, and the thought of being drowned in the tub made him ejaculate, sending his semen swimming around in the water.

"God, give me the strength to destroy this abomination!" Steve cried out as he wrapped his hands around the demon's neck, submersing its head completely under water.

The pressure around Tony's neck caused him to gasp for air, filling his nose and mouth with water. Tony couldn't breathe, and as the water filled his lungs he slowly slipped out of consciousness, elated that he was sober while his biggest fantasy became reality.


	4. Chapter 4

Tony felt like he was floating, rising up out of his body and into the sky. He'd never felt so high or alive in his life, and it was the most incredible feeling he'd ever known. He saw his body; it was thrashing about, trying to push Steve off, but his face was smiling. Actually, his face was grinning like an idiot and his eyes were closed in peace. Tony wasn't sure if he was having an out of body experience or if he was actually dead, but whatever it was he was enjoying every moment.

His joy was short lived, however, when Steve snapped out of it and dragged him out of the bathtub and began to perform CPR on him. He was slowly dragged back down into the body coughing up water, and Tony clawed at the air, hoping that he wouldn't have to occupy that pathetic, sliced up body for another minute. Tony was so disappointed when his eyes snapped open and he was completely aware of his surroundings that he wanted to scream. He was back inside of himself, looking through his own eyes in first person perspective, and holding his chest as he coughed.

He wanted to die, but Steve didn't allow it. Steve saved him and forced him to live another day on this miserable, meaningless planet, and he was furious. Tony didn't understand what made Steve sober up and save him, but he didn't like it. There was only one thing he wanted, and it was denied to him. He continued to cough as Steve cradled him in his arms, and he heard the prostitute begin to cry. It made absolutely no sense to him why another human being would cry over his almost death, and he felt the strange need to console Steve. He was verging on the point of tears himself, not because he'd almost died, but because he hadn't. Tony didn't want Steve to know that, however, so he simply wrapped his arms around the blonde's neck, clinging to him as he continued to hack up tub water.

"Sorry God! I'm so sorry, please forgive me! I didn't mean to almost kill Tony, I don't know what came over me! I heard Your voice in my head telling me, but I know now that it wasn't You! It was the Devil here to trick me! God, I promise that I will never, ever do AJK again! I mean it this time, I don't want to do this ever again! No more bad trips, I'll be good! He who is all that is right in this world, I will keep Tony safe, and I won't disappoint you! Thank you God for bringing me out of my high so I could save Tony from myself! Now please, please protect and watch over us, we love You! Amen!" Steve sobbed uncontrollably as he wrapped his left arm around Tony's waist and the left under his butt, bringing the brunet up into his lap.

He held Tony as if he was something to be loved, to be cherished, to be worried about, and it scared the billionaire. No one had ever stroked his back and soothed him, ever apologized for hurting him this way, or kissed him so sweetly on his cheek. He felt like a baby, swaddled up and given the love he'd never had the luxury of receiving. Steve was crying out God's name, begging for forgiveness in a way that Tony had only seen on the television. Tony wasn't sure if he should laugh at him for being so apologetic to something that probably didn't exist, or if he should pray too. It felt incredibly awkward to just listen to Steve bawl his eyes out like that, and he never imagined such a strong hero breaking down like that. He almost felt guilty. Almost.

"So sorry, Tony! I never wanted to hurt you, I thought this would be fun! I've never had a bad trip before… Shit! Tony, what if you died? It would be all my fault! You'd be dead in that bathtub if God didn't bring me to my senses! Please, please forgive me Tony!" Steve brought his right hand to Tony's face, moved it so they were looking eye to eye and planted a desperate kiss to his lips.

Steve had to make sure that Tony was alive; he needed to touch every inch of his skin, taste his lips, feel his warm, gasping breaths fill his mouth in between kisses. He almost ended the life of the man that God had sent to him to save him, and Steve was at the verge of a breakdown. His heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest with all of the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and just feeling Tony pressed up against him wasn't enough. They could never be close enough, never kiss deep enough, and Steve could never be inside of Tony enough to satisfy himself. Steve wished they could be connected in some way; share a bond like alphas and omegas, be sewn together… Anything that could bring them together enough to make up for the atrocity he'd almost committed.

"Stop praying to God already, Steve. I'm not dead for fuck's sake so calm down! God has no business in any of this bullshit and you know it!" Tony hissed as he broke away from the kiss, pulled away from Steve's body and got up.

He leaned up against the wall and cleared his throat of the rest of the bloody, cum-filled water he'd inhaled and stared at Steve. As much as he wanted to apologize for the words that had just said, there was nothing he could do to take them back now. Tony wasn't a man to admit his wrongdoings, and while he knew that Steve was reduced to this pitiful state because of him, there was no way he wanted the blonde to know that he felt responsible for their current circumstance.

Steve slowly stood up, wiped away the tears from his eyes and the snot from his nose and walked over to Tony. The words stung, but he believed that Tony was simply stunned by what had just transpired. He was probably afraid of him, no longer wanted his touch, and more than likely didn't want to take him back to Malibu. He knew he deserved that for his sin, and if God sent down that punishment then Steve would come to accept it in time.

"Tony… I'm really sorry for what I've done. I know God's just testing me, and I'm failing. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, and I can't blame you if you just want to get in your car and leave. I'll be fine, and honestly maybe it wasn't such a good thing that you met me. Look at you. You're bruised up, have stitches in your mouth, you have cuts all over your body… I left marks on your neck too," the prostitute took a hesitant step forward and lightly ran his fingers along the marks on Tony's neck and was shocked when the billionaire brought his body closer to his.

"Steve, just shut up about God. I don't want to hear it. He didn't save me, you did. You were tripping out of your mind, and shit happens when you're high. If I had a bad trip our roles probably would have been reversed here and you know it. God had nothing to do with you coming out of it and you fucking know it. Stop thinking that everything good that happens is His doing! That is absolutely ridiculous. People make mistakes when they're on drugs, you know that better than anyone. And the AJK ran its course and that's it. There was no divine power that saved me, Steve! You really think praying to God and worshiping him after you revived me's gonna make a difference? Because let me tell you it's not. I tried that prayer bit a long time ago and look at me! It didn't get me anywhere…" Tony's voiced trailed off, and he swallowed hard; the look on Steve's face went from worry to rage, and he really wished he would have kept his mouth shut.

"Tony, don't denounce God like that! You don't know what you're talking about. I don't care what you think about religion, about faith, about Him… I know that He exists and you have no right to come in here and criticize me for it. You know why prayer never worked for you, Tony? Because you didn't actually believe in Him when you asked for help. He won't answer you if you just half ass it. You have to give yourself to Him completely and fully, Tony. Unless you're going to talk to me about getting baptized, then I don't want to discuss this," Steve seethed through clenched teeth and stormed out of the room, trying to end the conversation before the argument became too heated.

"Oh no, I'm not done with you, Steve. How dare you tell me that I need to get baptized! I don't need some mythical bearded creature to save me! That is a complete waste of time and you know what? That 'holy water' you Catholics use? It's just tap water and you know it. Worthless, contaminated tap water. There's nothing holy about that shit… You're just baptized in lies! The church condemns people like you and yet you say you still believe!

"Fuck, if you follow the Bible and actually believe in that pathetic bullshit written by old men with God complexes be my guest. But don't tell me that I'm wrong, because if anyone's wrong it's you. God didn't write that trash, He doesn't speak to people like you, and you should know that if He exists he forsook you and me a long ass time ago. So fuck off, Steve, and maybe next time if you're going to drown me in a tub put some of your 'holy water' in it. I'll make sure I piss in it before you use it," Tony spat out as he grabbed Steve by the arm and forced him to turn around and look him in the eyes.

Steve had had enough; it had been years since someone mocked him so ruthlessly for his religious affiliation, and the prostitute wasn't going to take it, not even from the man he was unintentionally falling for. No one was going to talk to him that way, especially not about God, the most important man in his life. As much as he wanted a brand new life, to get out of this awful situation, and to get clean, Steve would never give up on his faith to satisfy anyone else.

There was rage building up deep inside of Steve, and Tony saw the fire in his eyes. He knew that he was in the wrong, but he didn't care; Tony couldn't wrap his head around the blonde's faith, and it aggravated him to see a battered Captain still so loyal to the God that abandoned him. He wanted to knock some sense into Steve, get him to realize that religion was just a waste of time and energy, but before he could open his mouth to dig himself a deeper grave Steve snapped.

"Don't come into my life talking about my God like that, Tony! Say you're sorry!" Steve shouted, and before Tony knew it he was down on the ground.

Tony touched his right eye, and he immediately felt it swelling up. He winced in pain, though it felt incredible. It gave him the best high, and no amount of AJK or other hallucinogenic drug could give him that feeling. As he rubbed his puffy, black and blue eye, Tony grinned up at Steve. The blonde's fists were balled up tight against his sides, and he was fuming man; Tony could swear he saw smoke coming out of Steve's ears with each loud breath he took.

"Come on, hit me again Bible thumper. You know you want to condemn me, try and make me repent for my words against your useless fucking religion! Fuck God, and Jesus deserved to be crucified! He was a weak piece of shit and if he couldn't even save himself how can he save you? Your beliefs are just a lie, Steve!" As the words left his lips, he felt something hard and bulky make contact with the right side of his face.

He felt one of his teeth come loose, and he spit it out onto the floor, enjoying the taste the blood that was dripping down out of the socket. Tony pressed his tongue up to the hole where his tooth was once rooted, and noticed that his first premolar on the right side was no longer there. The brunet swiftly got on his feet, not wanting to suffocate in his own blood, and backed away from Steve.

Steve, so angry that he was seeing red, lunged for Tony and bashed him again in the face, causing blood to spurt out of the billionaire's mouth and onto the object in hand. When Tony glanced at what was in the prostitute's hand, he realized it was Steve's pristine white Bible, and he couldn't help but laugh. Steve was beating him with the one thing that he was supposed to abide by, and he imagined Jesus scolding the blonde for his improper use of the holy word. Tony knew that Steve didn't even realize what he was beating him with, but it gave the brunet great satisfaction to know that he'd riled up Steve enough to get him to give him the merciless beating that he wanted.

Tony no longer harbored any guilt about being the reason that men down on their luck resorted to prostitution. He didn't care that Steve sold his body just to pay for a quick fix. If Steve was so adamant in stating that God was only responsible for the good and not the bad, then what was the point in feeling at fault for Steve's shitty lot in life? There was no reason in his mind, and he knew when they were in Malibu and enjoying a different life that Tony would shape Steve and mold him to be exactly what he wanted him to be. He had the upper hand now, and he loved every minute of it.

He began to laugh at Steve, only adding fuel to the fire. Steve was blind with rage, and he grabbed Tony by the throat and shoved him down onto the couch. Tony continued to taunt him, telling him how worthless God was and how anyone who read the Bible was full of shit, and Steve took every single word to heart. He could see the words penetrate Steve like bullets, and Tony grinned as he watched the blonde throw the blood stained word of God against the wall and rush at him, smothering him with all his body weight.

As Steve grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him, Tony noticed something gleaming out of the corner of his eye. When he realized what it was, Tony swiftly picked it up and held it tight in his right hand. Steve's eyes were closed and he was yelling unintelligible words of anger, so the brunet seized the opportunity. He slobbered his bloody spit all over the shiny object and shoved it deep into Steve's ass, causing him to howl in shock.

Steve immediately removed his hands from Tony's shoulders, and as the blonde tried to turn around to see what was inside of his hole, the brunet slid down his body and engulfed the angry Catholic's cock in his mouth, which he was surprised to find was already hard. Steve's words of anger turned to loud moans, and as Tony sucked him all the way down his throat the blonde bucked his hips, shoving his cock further inside.

As Steve face fucked Tony, the billionaire continued to force the object in and out of the prostitute's hole, and he smirked around Steve's cock as he felt the prostitute's hole twitch around it. He was desecrating a religious symbol in the asshole of a gay man, and it made Tony's sadistic, twisted heart swell with joy. He'd won, and Steve was enjoying being anally penetrated by something that was never intended to be used as a sex toy.

Tony's eyes began to water as he choked on Steve's cock, and as he looked at the blonde's massive erection he saw it was covered in blood and spit; his two favorite bodily fluids. He fondled Steve's balls with his right hand, alternating between stroking and squeezing. Soon the stimulation became too much, and Steve came down Tony's rubbed raw throat, sending his semen down into the brunet's belly.

When Steve's member softened, Tony pulled it out of his mouth and licked the blood, spit, and cum off, sated by the taste of the mixture. He brought himself back up to Steve's level and pulled the object out of the blonde's ass. Steve grabbed it out of his hand and stared at it, completely wide eyed and disgusted.

"You… You fucked me with the cross my Mom gave me…" Steve was at a loss for words; he looked at the cross then over in the corner of the room and saw his pristine Bible now ruined with stains of Tony's blood.

He slowly got up, walked over to the Bible and cradled it and the cross in his arms. The years of drugs, meaningless sex, and violence culminated into this very moment; his religious beliefs were tainted by his lifestyle, and Tony had given it a physical manifestation. It broke Steve's heart to see the precious, beloved symbols of his faith used in acts of violence and sexual deviancy. Without saying a word, he put on a pair of black jeans and a blue shirt, picked the religious items back up and walked out the door, leaving Tony all alone on the couch.

_Mom… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to turn out like this, and I know you're looking down on me from Heaven right now. You must be so ashamed of me, Mom. God, please hold her close and tell her I'm sorry. Comfort her the way I can't. Keep her happy, keep her away from looking at me, and don't torture her by forcing her to see what I am. Mom, I hope you can forgive me. _

_God, I know you want me to help Tony but you're making this very hard. He used my religion against me… God, do you know what to do? I know I shouldn't have hit him, but I'm sorry! I just love you so much, God! I don't want him to talk about You that way, You deserve better than that. Even though violence doesn't always solve problems, I hope that You see that I did it because I love You. Forgive my sins, God, and forgive me for what I'm about to do next. Amen, _Steve thought to himself as he knocked on the door across the hall, gave his crack addicted neighbors a few dollars in exchange for a small paper bag and rushed down the bloody, urine-soaked carpet stairs and into the street.

Steve briskly walked three blocks away and holed up in his favorite hideout. It was an abandoned one story garage that was used to give lube jobs and tune ups to cars years ago. The garage door was boarded up, the roof looked like it could collapse at any moment, and the side entrance to the garage was locked tight with a deadbolt. Steve, deft at picking locks, quickly unlocked it and walked inside.

It was disgusting; the grey, concrete walls were filled with cracks, and the dingy brown concrete floor had pools of dried blood, dirt, and shit from various vermin. There were dead rats on the concrete, cobwebs in the corners, and piles of used needles, tabs, and condoms scattered across the garage. In the right hand corner of the garage was a small bench made from a thick piece of wood held up by two small drums that once contained oil.

Even though it was unsanitary and reeked of decomposing road kill and ammonia, Steve still loved it. Whenever a trick tried to hurt him or he was running from Coulson when he couldn't pay for drugs, Steve would hide out here. All of the blood, used condoms, and drug paraphernalia were his, and no one ever set foot in the abandoned building but him. Everyone tended to avoid that block altogether because it was the South Side Shields' territory, but since Steve gained respect from the gang after Fury's death they left him alone. They had no use for the garage and kept it safe just for him, and if any intruders tried to invade Steve's fortress of solitude Maria, Shields newest leader, would take them out. He was thankful to have a place to call his own, and he thanked God for the sanctity of the battered old building.

Steve walked over to his makeshift bench, sat his desecrated Bible and cross down on the rickety wood and took a seat to the left of the symbols of his faith. He opened up the small paper bag and pulled out its contents; it contained a bottle of Vicodin, a pack of cigarettes, and a small plastic bag with four perfectly rolled joints inside. He pulled one of the long, thin joints out of the Ziploc, rolled the brown bag back up and set it on the floor. Steve put the joint in between his lips, took a lighter from his pocket, lit it and inhaled, enjoying the skunky taste from the weed that filled his mouth and lungs. Steve held in the smoke for several seconds before exhaling it out of his nose, closing his eyes as the warm smoke escaped his body. Marijuana always calmed him down, and it was the one drug that never gave him any unpleasant side effects. As Steve finished the joint, he stared at the defiled cross and blood stained Bible lying next to him, wondering just how much God would be able to stand before He gave up on him.

_Hmm… Steve's been gone for an hour now. Maybe that was too much. I probably shouldn't have egged him on like that, oh well nothing I can do about it now. Damn he's got a mean swing. Who knew someone could kick so much ass with a Bible of all things? The things people can use as a weapon, _Tony thought to himself as he carefully pried his blue contact out of his swollen eye, fighting back tears as he removed it.

He looked at his face in the bathroom mirror and assessed the damage; his right eye was blue and purple and so puffy that Tony could barely see out of it, his right premolar was gone, and his face was crusty with blood from his nose and mouth. Tony was shocked at how rough he looked and how much his head hurt from Steve's onslaught, but it made him feel strangely euphoric. It gave him a sense of pride to wear marks left by the once mighty Captain America's hands, and Tony smirked as he gingerly ran his fingers across the deep bruises lacing his neck.

As wonderful as it was to get the treatment he'd been craving, the high from being brutalized was beginning to wear off. Tony began to feel incredibly guilty about what he'd done, and as he thought about the blood spattered Bible and the cross he'd used to stimulate Steve he wondered what made him lash out that way. He knew it was the one weakness that Steve had, and the billionaire didn't understand why he couldn't just let the prostitute have his faith and leave it be. Now that Steve was gone and he was left in the dilapidated apartment by himself, Tony realized that he may have blown his chances to have Steve live with him and fulfill his biggest fantasy.

Tony straightened up his soaked wig, washed the blood off of his face and got dressed, putting his blood stained hoodie over the white shirt Steve gave him. He grabbed an old army backpack he found next to the prostitute's bed, put all of Steve's drugs and administration equipment inside of it and rushed out the door. He was going to find the blonde and take Steve back to Malibu with him, whether he wanted to go or not.

As Steve was popping a Vicodin and swallowing it dry, he heard someone honk their horn outside. He was confused, as few people ever ventured into such dangerous territory, let alone even announced the fact that they were there. The only people stupid enough to do that were those who didn't live there, and immediately Steve put the pieces together. It was Tony outside, and his heart began to flutter in his chest. He didn't know how the billionaire had found him or why he wanted to see him, but it made Steve feel like he was important. No one had ever come looking for him after he took off like that, and it made the prostitute wonder if Tony still wanted him to live with him in Malibu.

He slowly got up off of the bench, picked up the paper bag, cross, and Bible and opened the door. As his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the rising sun, Steve shielded his eyes with his free left hand and looked. Sure enough it was Tony, and he was smiling that smug, toothy grin as always. He rolled down the window, peered out and motioned for Steve to come over. It reminded the prostitute of when they first met several days ago, and the weed and Vicodin in his system calmed him down so much that he'd almost forgotten why he ran away from Tony in the first place.

Steve grinned back and sauntered over to the car door, wondering if the two of them could go back and act like none of this ever happened. He wanted a fresh start, even though they'd known each other for only a brief period, and if Tony was willing to behave himself then Steve would forgive him. When he reached the window and squatted down in front of the door, the brunet gave him a tender kiss on the lips and whispered for him to get in the vehicle. He nodded his head in acknowledgment, and when he opened the car door he nearly dropped the bag and religious items in his right hand.

"Here, hand me the cross and just toss the rest of your stuff in the back. I packed up all your drugs so there's nothing to worry about. Now come on, get in and open your present!" Tony snatched the defiled cross out of Steve's hand and beckoned for Steve to hop in.

Steve did as he was told, and he promptly tossed the drug-filled paper bag and his ruined Bible in the backseat next to his old army bag. He picked up the present, climbed into the passenger seat and put on his seatbelt just in case Tony wanted to rush off. Steve stared down at the gift; it was small and rectangular and was covered in shiny silver wrapping paper. The present even had a glittery blue bow, and he was so enthralled by the beautiful wrap job that he didn't even notice that Tony was talking to him.

"Steve, come on, open it! It's not okay to keep Tony Stark waiting, you should know that by now," Tony whined jokingly, and he turned his head to watch the blonde begin to finally un-wrap his gift.

He slowly untied the bow and removed the beautiful paper, taking care not to rip it apart. When he pulled the gift out of the silver paper, Steve was in shock. He set the paper and bow down onto the floor and examined the gift with both hands. The book was no larger than his hand, and its cover was made of beautiful, brand new black leather. As he brushed his fingers across the smooth binding, Steve noticed something alongside the right bottom corner.

"Tony… Why did you get me this?" Steve whispered as he traced his fingers along the engraved words 'Steven Rogers' that were written in white, legible cursive.

"Look, I completely fucked up your Bible. It's got my blood all over it, and if you're going to do right by God may as well have a nice book with 'His' word in it to read," Tony said nonchalantly as he stared at Steve, who's eyes were so wide with joy that the billionaire thought his heart would melt.

Steve grabbed Tony by the back of the head and kissed him, causing the brunet to gasp in shock. He hadn't expected the prostitute to accept the gift, let alone get in the car with him. This was the last response he'd ever expected to get, but when he tasted the weed and residue from a pill inside of Steve's mouth he knew exactly why. Had the blonde been sober, he probably would have flat out refused to come out of the measly little garage Steve had holed up in. There was no way Tony could imagine Steve forgiving him for his disrespect toward his religious beliefs in a completely lucid state of mind, but the brunet took it for what it was worth. As long as Steve continued to do drugs, Tony could fuck up as much as he wanted, permitted he bought him some illegal substances or expensive gifts to make up for it.

"I forgive you, Tony. This isn't as nice as the cross my Mom gave me, but it's definitely one of the best presents I've ever gotten," Steve said appreciatively as he moved away from Tony's mouth and rested his head on the billionaire's shoulder.

Tony watched as Steve reached out and gently stroked the smooth edges of the cross that was still in the billionaire's hand, and he grew curious about its importance. He wanted to know everything about it; how Steve got it, why his mother thought it was necessary to give it to him, and why he loved it so much. It was obviously a big deal to the prostitute, and Tony needed to know how such an item as insignificant cross could mean anything at all.

"I know what you're thinking, Tony. You probably think it's crazy that I love this so much…" Steve sighed as he rubbed his face into Tony's shoulder, pretending that the man he was cuddled up to was the most important woman that ever played a role in his life.

"Why? I mean, why did your mom give it to you I mean," the billionaire asked curiously as he put his right arm around Steve and drew him closer into his body, making the blonde feel safe and secure.

"Well, when I was a kid I was small and sickly. You probably know all that though because Howard told you I'm sure, but I was the littlest guy in Brooklyn. Kids hated me, and they always picked fights with me. I got beat up so many times… But somehow I kept fighting back. Most of the other kids like me gave up and just took it, but something in me wouldn't let me quit, and my Mom always told me it was because God was looking out for me.

"After a particularly bad fight with five of the neighbor kids when I was eight, I ran home covered in scrapes and bruises. My nose was bloody, both of my eyes were swollen, my elbows and knees were cut up… I was a real train wreck Tony. I was trying not to cry but I was in a lot of pain. I'd never taken a beating like that before, and I wondered where God could possibly be. He wouldn't let me get hurt like this if He loved me, and I was so angry that the moment I barged into the door that I told my mom that there was no God and that I was never going to church again.

"Mom wasn't very happy about that, but she didn't punish me. Normally she'd wash my mouth out with soap for taking His name in vain, but this time she didn't. She just drew me a bath, had me get cleaned up and she dressed all my cuts and put a rag soaked in cold water over my eyes to reduce the swelling. Mom helped me to bed, she covered me in blankets and left the room.

"Normally she would sit with me for a while after I got beat up like that, so I was confused when she left. I was worried that she was disappointed in me for denouncing God and this was my punishment… When I was about to get up and look for her she came back in my room and got down on her knees in front of me. When I tried to ask what she was doing, she shushed me and pulled something out of her apron pocket. It was the cross you have right there… She put it in my hand and said 'Do manfully and be of good heart: fear not, nor be ye dismayed at their sight: for the Lord thy God he himself is thy leader, and will not leave thee or forsake thee.' It's Deuteronomy 31:6… Whenever things go wrong I always think about, and it's gotten me through a lot," Steve smiled fondly as he gently took the cross from Tony's fingers and pressed a kiss to its center.

"Steve I-" Steve placed a kiss to Tony's cheek and pulled away from him, taking the billionaire's breath away.

"Tony, you don't need to say anything. I forgive you for what you did… But look what I did to you. Your eye's swollen shut a- Is your tooth gone?" the prostitute asked as he snapped out of his Vicodin induced calm and carefully took Tony's face in his hands, opening his mouth to look at the hole where his tooth once was.

"It's nothing, Steve. Really I've had worse happen to me, don't worry about it. I bought you a new Bible and you're coming to Malibu with me. I think we're even. Ready for a better life?" Tony asked with a smirk, and Steve answered the question with a tender kiss to the brunet's rough lips.

When they arrived to Tony's Malibu home, Steve was shocked by the view; he'd been to beaches many times, but never before in such a beautiful and private setting. The mansion was huge, and when the brunet took his hand and carefully led him inside Steve surely thought he'd died and gone to Heaven. He'd never seen anything so incredible, and at that moment Steve was thankful that he'd forgiven Tony for his mistake and agreed to live with him.

"You like it princess? We're both pretty disgusting right now… Want to take a shower?" Tony suggested flirtatiously as he dragged Steve into his bedroom, skipping the grand tour of the mansion for later.

Steve's eyes widened in surprise when Tony flipped on the bedroom light switch: without bothering to look at the rest of the room, he noticed a full-scale poster of himself on the wall behind Tony's bed. It was one of his well-known posters; Steve was in his Captain America costume saluting the viewer with his wood shield that he used during performances. That poster had been plastered up on every enlistment building across the nation during World War II, and Steve couldn't help but wonder why it was there. He remembered that Tony said that he was his favorite hero from the past, but the prostitute couldn't help but find it to be a bit odd. Before Steve could ponder it any further, however, Tony whisked him away into the bathroom and locked them inside.

_Fuck, I completely forgot that I had that poster up… I know Pepper's been begging me to get rid of it but how was I supposed to know that I was finally going to meet THE Captain America? Shit I forgot about Pepper! Fuck this is not going to end well… _Tony thought to himself as he ripped off Steve's shirt, licking the blonde's sweaty, hairy chest with his wet tongue in an attempt to push the thought from his mind.

"Start up the shower, Tony. I don't want you licking me when I'm like this," Steve chuckled as he pushed the smaller man over to the walk-in shower so he could get himself ready.

As Steve was removing his clothes, he noticed a hairbrush with little red hairs in it on the counter. He picked it up, inspected the hair and realized that a woman lived with Tony. He wasn't sure if they were friends, lovers, or a married couple, and the thought that he was going to be living with a man who was potentially committed to someone terrified him. Steve didn't remember Tony making any reference to a woman during the last few days, and he wondered why. The more he stared at the brush, the more jealous Steve became. He felt a strange wave of possession overtake him, and he didn't want to share the gift God had given him with anyone else. Tony was his to fix, and the thought of a woman trying to make Tony Stark a righteous man infuriated him.

"Tony, whose brush is this?"Steve asked calmly, trying to hide his strange possessive feelings from Tony.

"Pepper's. She runs my company, stays here sometimes. It's nothing, Steve. Now get in here and fuck me. I want it rough, so don't treat me like a delicate little flower," Tony motioned for Steve to join him in the shower, and with a sigh the blonde agreed; he hoped that Tony wasn't lying to him, but there would be no way to tell until she actually came into the picture.

The blonde said a quick prayer to God asking him to keep him from killing Tony during their quick fuck in the shower, and then he joined the man demanding his services. Steve pushed Tony against the crystal clear glass of the walk-in shower and hoisted him up. Tony wrapped his arms around the prostitute's neck and his legs around Steve's waist, pulling him closer to his body. Tony motioned over at a pump of liquid conditioner to the left, and the blonde nodded, quickly pouring some into his hand so he could use it as lubricant. He slathered his cock with the vitamin enhanced hair care product, put his hand back underneath Tony and slid his slick cock inside of the brunet's body.

"Fuck! Steve come on, make me your bitch! You know you want to fuck me hard after what I did… I ruined your Bible and fucked you with your momma's cross. Punish me for my sins against the Almighty!" Tony growled into Steve's throat as he bit into the course flesh, loving the way the water and sweat tasted on the blonde's skin.

Even though he didn't want to admit it and was living by God's words to give forgiveness to those who wronged him, Steve was still very upset about the cross. The new monogrammed Bible was beautiful and probably worth more than his entire wardrobe, but it didn't take away from the fact that Tony shoved his precious cross inside of him. He wanted to punish Tony for what he did, and as he began to thrust harder and harder into the man that took him out of his rundown Los Angeles apartment he wondered if sex was the way to bring the billionaire to salvation.

"You like ruining my cross, Tony? You think it's okay to use the one thing I have from my Mom left to fuck me? You're a piece of shit, Tony!" Steve cried out the words he'd been longing to say as he forced Tony farther down onto the cock, moving with such a vicious rhythm that the brunet was scared he'd prolapse.

As Steve drug his nails into Tony's thighs and pounded him against the glass, he heard the telltale noise of glass cracking. The prostitute tried to still them and bring Tony's body away from the glass, but the brunet slammed himself against the glass harder. While Steve innocently believed that Tony was just really into the rough sex they were having, he couldn't be more wrong.

_Come on… Break dammit! Get in the cuts in my back, slice up my skin, nick my neck… Make me bleed out while Steve fucks me. Come on God, end it already! Give me what I want! _Tony's inner voice screamed as the glass shattered, sending Steve and Tony crashing down to the floor.

Steve tried to pull away from Tony so he could help get them both off of the slippery, glass covered ground, but the brunet smashed his lips against Steve's, keeping the prostitute in the moment. As much as Steve wanted to stop, he couldn't; Tony was clenching tight around his cock and kissing him so hungrily that he didn't want to lose the sensation. He could hear the glass crunching into Tony's back, grinding into the wounds that were already there from their knife play, yet Steve didn't quit. Tears were running down the billionaire's cheeks and he was grunting with each thrust of the blonde's hips, and it only encouraged him.

"Glass… It's digging in… Feels so good… Fuck!" Tony groaned as he came, moving his hands from Steve's neck down to the ground to grip the sharp shards of glass littering the floor.

Blood from Tony's shredded palms began to mix with the water covering the tile floor, and as Steve continued to thrust into the brunet's spent body he imagined his sexual partner unconscious, bleeding from his mouth and copious amounts of blood gushing from his slit throat. He imagined grabbing a piece of glass from the floor and stabbing Tony repeatedly with it, watching the billionaire cry from pain and begging him to stop, and the thought drove him over the edge. Steve pulled out of Tony's asshole, stood up and beat his cock until his orgasm rushed through him, sending rope after rope of semen onto the brunet's face.

The post orgasm high allowed Steve to see Tony in a way he'd never imagined he'd appreciate so much. Tony was just like his own personal canvas, adorned in various slash marks, shades of pink, red, blue, and maroon that millions would flock to see. Steve wanted to parade Tony around, showing off the perfection that was the billionaire's battered and bruised body, and if he had a camera he surely would have taken a picture.

After a few moments of admiring his sadistic handiwork, Steve grabbed Tony gently by his hands and helped him up, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from the smaller man. As he helped Tony over to the counter to inspect the damage, Steve felt something stab the back of his neck. The last thing he saw was Tony's terrified expression before he lost consciousness, crashing down hard on the glass shard and water doused tile floor.


End file.
